Frustrations
by fatalxdesiresx
Summary: AU; Set after the finale. The series begins with Nikita going in search of Owen, and when she finds him they have a confrontation and Nikita tries to get Owen back. As the story progresses, many things dawn on Nikita, such as her feelings for Owen. and Owen, meanwhile, remembers what it was like to be with Nikita and finds himself falling in love with Nikita all over again.
1. Frustrations

Leaving had been hard, but the right thing to do. At her choice of words, Nikita felt herself start to break again. She tried not to think of either of them, but it was useless. She was alone once more and feeling so alone drove her to do her current task: track Owen down. He was still Owen to her and he'd always be Owen to her, no matter what. She wasn't going to give up on him. She needed him right now, one of the only other people who knew her better than herself. Just like she'd always known what was good for him, he'd always known what was good for her.

Nikita chastised herself for not looking into Owen's - well, Sam's - background more, but she made due and found a lead. Morgan Rowley. It had shocked Nikita to learn Owen had once been engaged. The thought of him being in love with someone other than her or Emily-… well, it was weird. But why shouldn't Owen have been once engaged? She tried not to judge him, knowing she'd broken his heart once. Multiple times, really.

She'd spent a few days stalking Morgan's house, memorizing her every day schedule and also keeping an eye out for Owen. She'd seen him the first day. He'd left the house for a run and had come back an hour later. Nikita had watched him eagerly, itching to get out of the car and go to him, but she hadn't. She was afraid to do so.

But the sight of Owen brought happiness to her since leaving the others behind. She couldn't even say any of their names, the pain too much. She and Owen were kindred spirits. She'd always known that. He saw the real her when others couldn't. He could predict her moves and thoughts, knew when she needed something. He'd always been there for her and she had treated him so horribly. She'd betrayed him and then he had betrayed her.

Still, she currently followed him, wanting to know where he was going. She ended up on a street of deserted factories, somehow not surprised that Owen would choose to come to such an area. She waited for him to come out of one of the warehouses, so lost in thought that she realized too late someone was approaching the car. She was grabbed by the arm, pulled out of the driver's seat and slammed against the side of the car. The person she saw before her made her freeze, unable to react. And he appearance had the same effect on Owen.

"Nikita?" he asked, not believing it was her. He eyed her warily.

"Owen," she said, the strength of her voice surprising her.

"So, finally found me. Where's everyone else? Waiting to ambush me?" he asked sarcastically, letting go of her and roughly shoving her against the car, taking a step back.

"No," Nikita replied, taking a deep breath. "They're not here. I left them behind."

Arching an eyebrow at her, Owen took a step to the side as he eyed her, not quite believing her. "Really? And why would you do that? What would your fiance think of you coming to find me on your own? I imagine he got a bit jealous and upset."

"He's not my fiance anymore," she said, with some difficulty. She looked down, missing the incredulous look Owen gave her.

"Can't say I'm sorry to hear that," he said, bitterly. He'd never liked Michael. He hated him, actually. He'd tried to like him for Nikita's sake, but the guy was such a dick. He'd never figured out what it was she saw in Michael to make her choose him over himself. He'd professed his love for her - no, Owen had. He was starting to slip again, much to his frustration.

"I'm not hear for your sympathy," Nikita said, looking sharply up at Owen. "I -"

"Good 'cause you're not going to get it," Owen interrupted her, taking a step closer to her. "Y'know, it always puzzled me what you saw in him." Nikita froze, the harshness in his tone catching her off guard. She'd never heard him speak this way before, especially not to her. "He was an asshole to me and to you. You saved his life by cutting off his hand and he repays that by treating you like shit, making it seem like he'd rather be _dead_. It's a goddamn hand, get over it. But of course, the spoiled asshole he is it's no surprise he got his hand back. I tried to like him Nikita, I really did, but he made it so hard. You have no idea what went on between us. All that shit that Owen went through for you I'll never understand," he continued, catching himself again. He'd gotten into Nikita's face without realizing it. This was the closest they'd been in months and it was unnerving. Looking at her, he felt a bit sorry for making her shake like she currently was - though out of anger or fear, he wasn't sure. Or maybe she was just cold. "And that's not even half of Owen's problems with you."

She was at a loss for words. Michael had blinded her, or maybe she had blinded herself. Choosing to ignore Owen, her feelings for him and their past to move on with her life. "You left me," she finally said, looking up at him with hurt in her eyes.

"What?" Owen asked, taken aback by her words.

"You left me and Michael was there when you weren't. I'll admit, he was convenient for me when you were good and right for me. But I was hurt and angry and I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I just - "

"I left, yes. But when I came back you were with Michael. How do you think that made me feel? Seeing you two together, I didn't think it could get any worse, but it did. You were _engaged _to him. _Engaged_. Talk about convenient and left-field, Nikita. The man who spent months hunting you and trying to kill you? The one who chose Division over you? He rejected you multiple times and treated you like shit and yet you chose _him _over _me_? I loved you and you betrayed me!"

"I know!" she screamed, pushing him away from her only to close the space between them again by walking over to him. "And I'm sorry, but I didn't think you would come back and I also didn't think things would get this far. I'm here now and I need you, Owen."

"I'm _Sam_," he said, putting emphasis on his name. "Owen's gone, Nikita. Your lovesick puppy is _dead_," he said harshly, hoping to get that into her thick, ignorant skull. "Give it up and go home."

"No. No. Owen's not dead. You're not. You'll always be Owen, no matter what. I can see it in your eyes," she continued, lowering her voice. "That struggle to do the right thing. Remember that? The right thing to do?"

Owen blinked several times, her words having an effect on himself that he wished they weren't. At the change of Nikita's expression, Owen knew she saw it too. She saw his resolve failing just as he felt it. Taking this as encouragement, Nikita reached out and placed her hand on Owen's chest, clutching the fabric of his jacket.

"There is good in you," she continued. "There will always be good in you. Don't be afraid of it. Everyone has good and bad sides to themselves. We know that better than anyone else. Look at all the things we've done. I'm not mad at you for handing me over to Amanda. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I've been betrayed by everyone I love and yet I'm still here. There's a reason for that. And there's a reason we keep finding each other, Owen. I need you right now," she repeated, putting more emphasis on her words this time. Her voice also cracked with emotion, her eyes stinging at the threat of tears. "Please. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, but I need you right now. We can help each other."

Owen sighed heavily, looking down and shaking his head. Nikita leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Owen's. When he didn't pull away from her, she felt there was hope for them. For him and for her. Sam lifted his hands and placed them on each of her arms, clutching her. He felt an ache in his chest, a familiar ache. An ache that was both bad and good, somehow. He didn't want to be the gullible sap that Owen had been, but being around Nikita brought out a certain side of him and it was hard to fight it.

"I hate you," he said.

"I hate you, too," Nikita replied, and Owen smiled just a little bit because he heard laughter in her voice.


	2. A Second Chance

She was so tired. So, so tired. What Nikita had said to Owen before - before taking down Division, killing Percy - how she felt then was how she was feeling now. She just wanted to _stop_. Stop fighting. Just stop. But she couldn't, and she and everyone else knew that. Doing the right thing drove her. She supposed that was the reason she'd sought out Owen. He'd given her that pep talk. It was because of Owen they'd even taken over Division. If it hadn't been for him convincing her to keep fighting who knew where they'd all be? He understood her and right now Nikita needed someone who did; someone who knew the right thing to say. That had always been Owen.

There were still things to do. They both had guns, but only their side arms. Soon they'd need bigger guns. But right now, Nikita wanted to _rest_. She couldn't remember the last time she'd just stopped and enjoyed herself. She knew Amanda was out there and plotting her next move, but there was nothing Nikita and Owen could do to stop her. Even two against one, it was _Amanda_. They were a good team, but Amanda was smart and manipulative and had partners now.

So for now Nikita decided to do a little recuperating. She was still hurting from recent events and her decisions, but another part of her was relieved and happy to be around Owen again. Even if he wasn't completely her Owen, she was still glad. Now and again she saw some of the old Owen in Sam and was determined to bring him out as much as possible. Sam cared, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The only trouble was with Morgan, Sam's ex-fiancé. She and Nikita, well, they didn't exactly hit it off. They were both plagued with the slightest jealousy, though both were too stubborn to admit it. Morgan stayed away as much she could, working shift after extra shift at a downtown clinic, leaving Nikita and Owen on their own most nights. Nights like tonight.

"So what's your plan?" Owen asked, gazing at Nikita. She sat in the arm chair across from him, deep in thought. She looked up at his question, shifting in her seat and furrowing her eyebrows a bit. "You just gonna hide out for the rest of your life?"

"No," Nikita replied, sharply and defensively. "I'm just - I need some time to myself. I just need to - regroup, you know? I'm not going to stop until one of us - me or Amanda - is dead. But for right now, just -" she broke off, shrugging her head to the side.

Sighing heavily, Nikita leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees, burying her face in her hands. Owen watched her for several minutes, sympathy creeping its way into his heart, into Sam and Owen's heart, as well as understanding. Memories of Owen's came back to him. One in particular where he was telling Nikita that Division had given her a gift, an ability to help people. And that what she was doing was the right thing to do.

"I just - I don't know what to do anymore," Nikita continued, pulling Sam out of Owen's memories and back to reality. "I'm so tired. Just so tired. I did all I could think of while at Division and nothing worked. I failed. I lost you, Sean was killed. Ryan almost died. And Amanda got away every single time." Finally, Nikita looked up and at Owen. Her Owen, she always liked to think to herself. She had her doubts sometimes. Was he still _her _Owen? Those doubts would soon vanish and she'd chide herself for being so stupid. Of course he was still her Owen. He was in there. He just needed encouraging. Sam could be _her _Sam.

"You didn't lose me, Nikita," he said, holding her gaze. He was smiling softly, the corner of his mouth formed in a smirk. His famous side-smirk that Nikita loved so much. She smiled back at him, her eyes watering a bit - from exhaustion, from emotions, from seeing that side-smirk. "I'm still here. And stop focusing on what you _should _do. Focus on what you _can _do."

"I didn't?" she asked, her voice low. His words encouraged her, but something that had been bugging her lately started to trouble her again. Something about Owen and her and Michael. At first she didn't want to ask, but then the need to grow grew too strong. "Why didn't you ever tell me? When you found me again, came back - why didn't you say anything to me?" A few times Nikita had come close to breaking it off with Michael. She did love him, she really did, but things got so bad between them sometimes that it became unbearable. It'd been so awkward between them for so long and even though things had seemingly improved, that unease still remained between them. And aside from the unease, there was also the fact he just didn't understand her. He didn't understand that Nikita had started this whole crusade against Division because of losing Daniel. That the loss of him was what drove her. That the only thing she truly knew how to do was _fight_. She had fooled herself into thinking she was the marrying and settling down type. She wasn't and never would be. At least, not with him.

Could she be with Owen, though? With Sam? Did she even _deserve _to be loved and be happy? Did either of them, her or Owen?

Nikita's question made Owen look down, analyzing his current feelings along with all of Owen's regarding Nikita. They were strong and not all pleasant or positive. He remembered hating Nikita at times, being angry or annoyed with her and with Michael as well. He had wanted to come out with it, confront Nikita, confess his feelings for her again. But why hadn't he? "I thought you deserved better," he said, realizing the truth. "I thought Michael could do better than me," he continued, looking up at Nikita, his jaw tensed. "I thought he could give you the life I couldn't. I thought he was the better man." When Nikita opened her mouth to speak, Sam held up his hand to cut her off. "No, think about it. I killed Daniel, your first fiancé. I killed dozens of other peoples' loved ones. I've done horrible things. As much as I loved you I thought you deserved better. I wanted you to be happy. Even if I was miserable." Because that was how much he loved her. He'd realized these past few days that what he was feeling wasn't all contributed to his past as Owen. Sam was in love with Nikita, too. A little bit of Owen's feelings had seeped into Sam's heart, and then spending time with Nikita opened his heart and his eyes more. She was an admirable woman, Nikita. And Sam felt himself becoming Owen again.

It was easier now, somehow. Mainly because Division was gone for good, which seemed hard to believe. He had just hated it there. Himself and the old part of him that was Owen. He'd stayed in that hellhole solely for Nikita and of course to find out what Amanda knew about him. He still regretted his actions, just leaving Nikita like that. But she had deserved better, or so he thought. Now, though - now that they were both away from Division things seemed simpler and clearer to him and he wasn't afraid anymore.

"We've both done horrible things," Nikita said, after several moments. She'd been taken aback by his reason for not saying anything, not having expected that. He took her breath away and she felt her heart breaking all over again. "If people knew what all I'd done they'd think I'm a monster. Neither of us are perfect. So many times I wanted to tell you I still loved you," she continued, remembering all those times she'd been close to caving in and telling him. But each time things had been so beautiful between them that she hadn't wanted to ruin the moment. She thought she'd lost him. "But I guess I thought I'd lost your love. Or I thought I didn't deserve your love, that you deserved better than me. I hurt you and that wasn't right. What I did to you was unforgivable."

Owen laughed lightly and side-smirked, gazing earnestly at Nikita for a few moments. "Maybe neither of us deserve to be loved," he contemplated. "We punish ourselves. We deprive ourselves of basic human needs because we don't feel human." Owen shrugged. "But we are, Nikita. We are human and even if we don't think it, we _do _deserve to be loved and happy. It's hard to accept it, but maybe people like us deserve a second chance?" he asked, a bit hesitantly.

It was a nasty thought, thinking you didn't deserve love or to be happy, but it felt natural to Nikita. She'd been made to do terrible things and she'd tried to atone for her sins. She'd made mistakes along the way. Lied to people, even if to protect them. She'd been betrayed by everyone she ever loved and yet she kept going because it was the only thing she knows how to do. She was a fighter, a warrior, and always would be. Maybe it was time she began to let her walls down, feel good about herself or let someone help her feel good about herself. Let someone love her and not push them away. She'd pushed Owen away once before and she didn't want to do that again. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Slowly, Nikita started to nod as she studied Owen. She was going to say something, but decided to get up and go over to Owen. Sitting on her knees on the couch beside him, Nikita leaned over and kissed Owen. Innocently at first, but then as she began to pull away Owen reached out and brought her back to him, his hand on the back of her neck. Sitting up straighter, Owen slipped his arms around Nikita and felt himself being drawn to her, attracted to her like all those times before. It'd been so long since he had kissed her that he deepened their current kiss and sought out more of her.

In return, Nikita felt her heart start to beat faster, parts of her aching for Owen. She'd missed him. Missed kissing him, touching him affectionately - just _him_. He was still a wonderful kisser, perhaps even better than she remembered. She'd never wanted to kiss someone so eagerly or hungrily like this before. She wanted Owen so badly, like she'd been deprived of nourishment for an indeterminate amount of time. She placed her hands on either side of his face, straddling his lap now and pressing herself so close against him she swore she thought she could feel their hearts pounding against each other.

As she ran one hand over his hair, Owen broke away from the kiss to catch his breath and to also kiss along her jaw line and then down her neck. He buried his face into her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around Nikita, knowing he should stop this; that she wasn't ready to just forget about Michael and move on. But he didn't want to be the good guy Owen had always been. He'd never taken advantage of Nikita since coming back, even if he could have kissed her or confessed to her. He'd always respected her and her decision to choose Michael over him. Well, he was sick of it. Look where being good had gotten him, them? He wanted to be bad. He wanted _them _to be bad.

But it was too soon. It was too soon for that and despite desperately wanting to say screw everything, Sam wanted to do things right. He owed that to Nikita, so he lifted his head and kissed her before placing his hand on the side of her face and saying, "I want you so badly, but now's not the time. I don't want you to do something you're going to regret, or do something that's not you. I don't want you to have to feel guilty about us."

Whether it be him, Sam, or Owen, he felt he belonged with Nikita. She was home to him. It's why he had stayed at Division. Everything he has ever done has been for her, and he'd continue to do things in her name. Hopefully good things.

Nikita nodded, even if she was disappointed. Instead of getting off of him and leaving the room, though, Nikita stayed with Owen. They got comfortable on the couch, Owen stretching out so Nikita could cuddle against him, his arm wrapped around her. He ran his fingertips over her hair, caressing her in a gesture that was soothing to them both. Nikita realized no one had ever really done that before, caressed her hair. She loved it. It was the little things she had always wanted and cherished. Owen had always done the little things for her, kind gestures that Michael had never thought to do. In the end, actions spoke louder than words.

Glancing down, Owen pressed his lips against the top of Nikita's head and kissed it. He continued to stroke her hair, enjoying the soft texture and even the sweet smell of it. Even after he sensed Nikita was asleep against him, he continued to caress her, unable not to. "You deserve to be loved, Nikita," he whispered, his lips pressed against her hair. Closing his eyes, Owen focused on her breathing and how she felt against him. She was so light and fragile, more fragile than she let on or let others see. "You deserve love."


	3. Closer

"Oh, come to mama." Nikita bent over and picked up the Longbow T-76 after fondly caressing several different machine guns. She tested it, feeling it's weight, pleased with how it felt and how easy it was to handle. Meanwhile, Owen stood back and watched her, a slight smirk on his face. When Nikita heard him chuckle, she put the Longbow down and turned around to face him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Owen said after a moment, a laugh escaping from between his lips. "It's just - you love the weirdest things, Niki, but I find it endearing. Never thought I'd meet a woman who enjoys shopping for guns the way some women shop for clothes or shoes, that's all," he added, when Nikita began to take on a defensive expression and stance but then relaxed at his words. She enjoyed hearing him call her _Niki_. It'd been a while since anyone had called her that and she'd missed it.

The guy they were buying the guns from was standing on the other side of the table displayed with an arrange of guns, an unamused and rather disgusted look on his face from 'Niki' and Owen's current interaction. "Yo," he said, interrupting them. "We doin' business or not?" he asked irritably.

Owen didn't bother to look at him, instead picked up a semiautomatic firearm and tested it out before putting it down again and picking up another semi. He'd let Niki do the talking since she was the apparent gun fanatic. "We'll take that Longbow, one Cobray, two semiautomatics, and that Colt," he heard Nikita say.

She had her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers twitching from excitement. This dealer had an excellent stock of guns, though she wondered how he had managed to come across so many weapons used by the military.

"You two sure about all this?" the dealer asked. He didn't start to pack the ammo right away. He studied the man first and then the woman, more inclined not to trust the man but the woman seemed so disarmingly innocent that he grew suspicious of her, too. His eyes briefly flickered to the three other members of his gang, signaling them to stay alert and keep an eye on these two. "What do you need all these guns for?"

"None of your concern," Owen replied, noticing the dealer's mistrust of them and he definitely didn't miss that eye thing, nor did Nikita. She lowered her eyes and looked at the other four men in the room out of the corner of her eye and saw them watching her, too. "The less you know the better," Owen added, as if that was the final word.

"Mhm," the dealer murmured, sighing heavily as he stared Owen down. Nikita was ready to take them on, she was just waiting for one of them to make the first move. "The thing is, these guns are my babies and I decide who I sell them to, and I don't like you."

As soon as the dealer gestured to his other buddies and they moved forward, Nikita grabbed the Longbow and threw it at them to distract them. While the one guy held the Longbow in his hands at a loss for what to do, Nikita took on the other two, throwing them against the wall and connecting their heads with it to knock them unconscious. She spun around, checking on Owen who was fighting the dealer, and then faced the other guy she had tossed the gun at. By this time, he'd set it down on the ground and had a knife out and was in a fighting stance. Grinning, Nikita advanced on him and he swiped at but missed her, giving her the opportunity to elbow his exposed ribs. He grunted in pain and swiped at her again with the blade of his knife, this time making contact. She let out a cry of pain at feeling the blade slice at her skin, gaining Owen's attention. "Nikita!" he yelled, glancing at her worriedly and then punching the dealer.

Angry, Nikita kicked the back of one of his knees, causing him to fall down on the other.

Seizing the moment, she kicked him on the back and sent him flying forward, the knife sliding across the floor and out of his grasp. She made a run for the knife but was grabbed by her ankle and fell. Turning her head, she kicked the guy in the head with the heel of her shoe and then continued to go for the knife. She was reaching out for it, her fingertips on the blade when the guy she was fighting grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her onto her back, getting on top of her and pinning her down. He grabbed her by the neck, pushing down hard on her throat to block her air supply. He was sweating, his face and hands scratched and bleeding. Nikita's vision began to blur, her eyes stinging, and she gasped for air.

Extending her arm above her head, Nikita tried to reach for the knife but every time she got it she fumbled and it got further and further away from her reach. There was no need for the knife, though. Even though her vision was blurry and getting dark, she could see Owen's shape suddenly appear behind the guy choking her, his arm around the guy's neck and cutting off his oxygen. He let go of Nikita and she rolled over onto her side and pulled herself away as her attacker fell forward, unconscious.

"Nikita? Niki?" Owen asked, kneeling down in front of her. He took her face between his hands, gazing at her and making sure she was okay. She kept couching, gasping for air. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. Owen kept one hand on her face and used his other one to lift her jacket and shirt, inspecting her wound. It wasn't too deep or fatal, but she needed some first aid.

"Get the guns," Nikita choked out, jerking her head in the direction of the table.

Owen just laughed and shook his head, not surprised her first thought was about the guns. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, hesitating for a moment before getting up and grabbing the guns. He kicked the dealer out of his way and put the guns back in their cases, packed all the ammo, and then carried as many of the guns as he could. "You do the honors," he said, handing the case with the Longbow in it to Nikita, who had gotten up and brushed herself off carefully while Owen got the guns. She smiled, taking the case and heading out side-by-side with Owen.

Back at the house, Owen stored the guns safely in Morgan's attic and then went to find a first aid kit. Nikita went to sit down on the bed in the guest room she'd been using, clutching her side and swaying slightly. "How're you feeling?" Owen asked, walking into the room. He crouched down on the floor in front of Nikita, opening the first aid kid and setting it on the floor at his feet.

"Sore," she said. "Thirsty." She laughed lightly, then groaned as the laughter made her body shake, making the cut hurt.

"I can fix both of those," he said, grabbing a packet of anti septic wipes and ripping it open. "Come on, take your shirt off and lay back on the bed." When she didn't move, Owen looked up and found her staring down incredulously at him. "What, now you get shy? We've seen each other naked already." he added, smirking a bit.

"Remember the first time you were injured and I took care of you?" she asked, remembering it so clearly it could've been yesterday. She felt her lips curve into a smile, the thought of Owen handcuffed to her old recruit bed giving her some ideas.

"I sure do," Owen said, laughing. "You handcuffed me to your bed. Took my clothes off. Naked and handcuffed to your bed and you never took advantage of me," he added, shaking his head and tsking her. "I wouldn't have objected, you know," he continued, when he looked up to see Niki arching an eyebrow at him.

She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it and just did as Owen said. It took her a minute or two to take her shirt off, wincing in pain. Once she was in only her bra and pants, Owen helped Nikita lay back on the bed. While her attention was elsewhere, focused on getting comfortable, Owen took the moment to admire her. She was still as hot as he remembered, perhaps more. It was funny how not seeing someone for a long time and in a certain way changed your opinion about them. He tried not to think that Michael had seen her like this, shirtless, even naked. He hated the guy and any thought of him was unwelcome. Especially now.

"All right," Owen said after a moment, gently cleaning away the blood from around her cut. He applied a dressing to it and then looked up at Nikita when he was finished. Nikita began to sit up after he was finished, but Owen put his hand on her shoulder. "No, hey. Just relax."

"I'm fine," Nikita said, putting her hand on Owen's hand, sitting up now. When she looked up, she realized their faces were close together, their hands interlaced on her shoulder. She smiled at him, letting her hair fall down the side of her face and brush his shoulder. The room was dimly lit, the sky outside growing darker and darker. All that added to the intimacy of the moment, their features hard to see but it didn't matter. They each knew what each other looked like without needing to actually see each other. Nikita lifted her hand, tracing her fingertips along Owen's brow-line. She traced her fingertips all over his face as if she were a blind woman trying to get an idea of what Owen looked like.

"You're a terrible patient, too," he said, slowly smiling. He was enjoying the moment, her fingertips caressing his brow-line and how close they were to each other. He closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into her hand. The moment was so quiet and intimate, no sound but their breathing. Owen kept his one hand on her shoulder and placed his other one on her thigh. He wished, though, she was wearing shorts and not jeans, or even better _nothing_. He wasn't ashamed to admit he'd love it if she wore nothing all the time.

Nikita grinned at his words, glancing down at his hand on her thigh. She said nothing, liking the feel of his hand there. Lifting her other hand, she placed it on the side of Owen's neck and leaned down to kiss him. The rush of endorphins she got from kissing him made her forget about the cut along her abdomen, the pain going away. At least for now. Owen let go of her shoulder, sliding his hand down her side and then down to rest on her other thigh. Gripping her, he lifted her up into his arms as he got on the bed, setting her on his lap. She straddled his lap and then pulled away from kissing him to take off his shirt. She wanted to see him shirtless again, roam her hands freely over his chest, kiss it, bite it, whatever she wanted and felt like doing.

Owen leaned in to kiss Nikita again, but she shook her head and placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back against the headboard. Slowly lowering her gaze, Nikita leisurely dragged her hands across his chest, then down his arms. Closing his eyes, Owen he had missed the way she'd always touched him, relishing it now more than ever before.

When he felt her hands on his chest once more, Owen lifted his own hands and slid them up and down her back, then grazed them over her ass before cupping it. Keeping his hands on her ass, he pushed her harder against him, feeling her brush against his bulge through his jeans. Nikita dipped her head, kissing down the side of his neck to the tip of his shoulder.

He had his head tipped back all the way, the top of it pressing against the headboard and his next fully exposed. And it was such a glorious neck. Nikita had never really had any fetishes before, no kind of fixation, but when it came to Owen she was always fascinated by his neck and hands - either wanting to kiss or bite at his neck or have his hands all over her. She truly wondered how she had ever been able to let him go. But had she? She'd always held onto some feelings for him. He hadn't completely gone away, left her heart.

Diverting her attention from his shoulder, Nikita lifted her hands to run them through his hair as she kissed the center of his neck, sucking on his skin and then kissing down to his neck's hollow point. She sucked the skin there, too, even grazing her teeth over the skin and part of his collarbone. She heard him sigh, indicating he was immensely enjoying himself, her, all this. It pleased her. Whenever he had moaned or sighed or groaned when they were together always encouraged her on.

Owen removed his hands from her ass and slid them up her back, grabbing the ends of her hair and wrapping a thick strand of it around each of his hands before lifting them up even further so he could cup the back of her head. Opening his eyes, Owen lifted his head and then crushed his lips against Nikita's. He sat up straighter, Nikita pressing her body closer against his, their chests touching and rubbing together as they kissed each other feverishly. She placed her hands on either side of his face, digging her fingertips into the skin surrounding Owen's cheeks as Owen himself flipped them over, placing Nikita on her back.

Drawing one leg up, she wrapped it around Owen's thigh and continued to kiss him eagerly, craving more of him by the minute. She sought out his tongue, wrapping hers around his, rubbing it with her own, teasing it. She just wanted him right now, more than ever. She missed how things had been between them, how they had never hesitated to kiss each other. And how sometimes, after getting in a fight during a mission she had wanted to have sex with him right then and there. There was just something about him that made her want him at the most obscene moments, and even more if one or both of them were beaten up, bloodied or bruised. She supposed he brought out the kinky side of her and she did not mind it one bit. She rather enjoyed it.

Owen deepened the kiss, taking more of her into his mouth as he ran his hands all over her. He brushed the side of her breasts, slid his hands under her thighs and drew both her legs up to matching angles then slipped one hand between her thighs. Any sound coming from outside wasn't getting through to him. The only sound he cared about right now was the sound of their heavy breathing, Nikita's occasional sigh or moan and his own groans. He wanted her so badly. So badly it wasn't even funny. A part of him was still hesitant, though. They'd only been together now for close to four weeks. Was that enough time, he wondered? As intense as his needs were, he tried to keep in mind Nikita's needs more. The need for her to not have a guilty conscience. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty about the two of them.

As Nikita was reaching her hand down to unzip his pants and pull them off, Owen reached down and grabbed her hand, stopping her. "No," he said, shaking his head at her. She looked at him with the most heartbreaking expression, seeing the longing in her eyes. He instantly felt horrible for stopping her, but knew this was the right thing to do. "You know as well as I do that it's too soon."

"No," Nikita said firmly, shaking her head. She grabbed his face and leaned up to kiss him, as if to prove a point. "It's not. I want you, Owen. I've wanted you for months but I never realized it. I've missed you so much. I've missed us. I need you right now."

As Owen gazed down at her, her fingertips caressing the curve of his cheeks, Owen's breathing became heavier and heavier as he ruminated over her words. Every bone in his body wanted to do this. To feel her, enjoy her, show her love. He craved her like he always did. She was a need he had. Before he knew it, he'd pressed his forehead against Nikita's and then pushed himself up, pulling down his pants as Nikita pulled down her panties. They tossed all their clothes on the floor and then Owen got on top of Nikita, admiring her for several moments before he positioned himself inside of her and started thrusting.

He placed his hand by her head, tangling his fingers in her dark, silky hair. She turned her head to the side, exposing some of her neck for Owen and in return Owen dipped his head and kissed the side of her neck. Nikita placed her hands on his back, digging her fingertips into his flesh as he moved, spreading her legs wider to let him get deeper inside her, and he did. He felt so good to her and she felt good to him, though _good _was an understatement.

As he picked up his pace, Owen moved his hand to the top of her head and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. He dipped his head, nipping at her skin a few times before sucking on the same spots, soothing her before trailing kisses down her chest. Nikita brought both her hands up and cupped the back of his head, running her fingertips roughly along his scalp as he kissed her, sending shivers down her arms and back. She flipped them over, grabbing Owen by the wrists and pinning him down on the bed on either side of his head.

Taking control, Nikita ran her hands greedily down his body, even digging her nails into his flesh and dragging them down his torso, leaving bright red marks. She quickened her pace as she rocked her hips, leaning back and placing her hands behind her on the bed. Owen enjoyed the view, sliding his hands up along her small waist and then brushing his hands over hare breasts. He sat up and kissed between her breasts, cupping them as he did so. He teased her nipples with his fingertips until they were harder, then he closed his mouth around her areola and sucked on her nipple. Letting her head fall back, Niki wrapped her arms around Owen's broad shoulders and let out a moan, arching her back slightly so her abdomen was pressed against Owen's.

Owen placed his hands on the small of her back, caressing her skin and spine with his fingertips as he kissed from between her breasts and up to her neck again. Nikita picked up her pace, feeling her walls tighten, feeling herself become slick as her orgasm approached. He wrapped his arms around, holding each other tightly now as they climaxed together. Owen buried his face in Nikita's hair as the latter buried her face into his neck. He fell back on the bed, bringing Nikita with him.

They curled up together and Owen slipped his arm under and around Nikita, hugging her close against his chest. She rested her arm on his chest, her hand resting above one of the tattoos on his pecs, her head resting in the crook of his armpit. She felt the sweat on the back of her neck and on the middle of her back, the beads rolling further down her body. Owen's heavy breathing began to even out, his chest rising and falling at normal heights now. Nikita knew she should feel bad or disgusted or wrong, but she didn't. She felt good for once in her life.

Standing outside by her mailbox, Morgan stared at her house and at the light on in the guest bedroom. So they were home. She had no doubt they were together in that room, doing God knows what. Her shift had yet to end, but she'd wanted to come back to… well, she wasn't sure. She felt so out of place in her own home. How was that possible? Nikita. The way Sam looked at her broke Morgan's heart because Morgan had looked at him that way once and he'd looked at her the same way, too. Now he was looking at some other woman with that admiring and longing gaze. And not just any woman. Nikita. The woman infuriated Morgan to no end.

Finally deciding, Morgan reached into her jacket pocket and grabbed her phone, dialing the number of the hospital. "Jo? Yeah, it's Morgan. I'd like to pick up another shift if that's all right. No, tonight," she added after a pause. There was another pause and then she said, "Thanks." Pressing the red button to disconnect the call, Morgan slipped her phone back in her pocket and then started for her car. She was interrupted by someone, though.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice rough and gravely. He was tall, a bit scrawny. Dark hair, light brown eyes, a bit of stubble. He looked tired and rough, like he hadn't slept in days. "Are you Morgan Casey?"

"Yeah, why?" she asked, feeling like she knew this guy from somewhere. There was something familiar about him, which only put her on edge and made her a bit wary about why he was asking her name. If he knew her then she definitely knew him, but she was at a loss as to how that could be possible. "Can I help you?"

"You already have. Thanks," he said, then started to walk away.

The stranger stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, heading back to his truck. "Wait, who are you?" she yelled after him, waiting for an answer. He stopped walking but didn't answer her for several minutes, making her believe he wasn't going to answer her. When she was about to walk to her own car, she heard him say his name.

"Michael." He continued to walk to his truck, getting in and driving off. Morgan stood on the sidewalk, staring after him confusedly. Then it sank in.


	4. A Touch of Heavenly Light

He could sense her beside him. Her leg was wrapped around one of his own, her foot brushing the calf of his opposite leg. On his chest her head rested, her hair tickling his chest. Owen was reluctant to open his eyes, afraid if he opened them that Nikita would disappear and all this would turn out to be just a dream; be too good to be true. That was his life wasn't it? That's how things always worked out for him. He never got the girl. Well, he'd have the girl for a short while, but then Fate would come along and snatch her from him; first Emily, then Nikita.

Ever so slowly, Owen opened his eyes and turned his head so he could look down at Nikita. He smiled, slowly moving his hand up and down her back and then moved it to cup the back of her head. He ran his fingers through her soft, dark hair, enjoying the texture of it. As he gazed at her, admiring this angle of her, he felt an ache deep in his heart. He let out a sigh without meaning to, his chest rising heavily and then falling, causing Nikita to stir awake.

When she looked up at him with sleep-filled eyes, he chuckled slightly and brought his other hand up to caress her cheek, his other hand resting once more on her back. "Good morning," he said, smiling.

"Morning," Nikita replied, grinning as she stretched to kiss him. She ran her hand up and down his chest. It felt good to wake up cuddled together. She remembered waking up alone so many times, the bed and room cold. It had saddened her. Now, though - with the sun streaming in between the curtains, warming her and Owen in bed, she felt happier than she'd been in a long, long time. He'd always brought her such happiness, even in the littlest ways. He was a touch of heavenly light.

Nikita was brought of her happy reverie when she noticed the look in Owen's eyes. It was a mixture of happiness and sadness, she thought. Perhaps a little bitter sweetness in there, too. She hated seeing him sad on any level. "What's wrong?" she asked, trailing her hand up his chest, tracing her fingertips along his jaw line.

"Nothing," he started to lie, but when Nikita furrowed her eyebrows at him and gave him a look, he smiled a bit and continued, "It's just - every time I become happy, every time I get you - " he hesitated, swallowing roughly and looking away for a moment. "Every time something good happens to me," he continued, looking at Nikita again. "it's taken away. It's like I can't be happy for a certain amount of time, and I'm afraid these moments with you won't last forever."

Owen took a deep breath, looking imploringly at Nikita as if she might have an answer, a solution. He knew she didn't, though. Life was fickle. Things never go the way anyone wants, no matter how hard they try. The best anyone can do is savor every moment they have, whether alone or with someone else. Nikita wished she could say something, assure him nothing would come between them, but she knew better than to do that. She got a better idea.

Pushing herself up, Nikita got on top of Owen, making him laugh and smile. "Listen to me," she said, placing her hands on either side of his head, leaning down so her hair shielded his face from the sun. "All that matters right now is us. This moment," she added, lifting a hand to trace her fingertips down along the side of his face, brushing her fingertips along his bottom lip. "The world outside can't hurt us right now. We're safe from it. All we can do is savor every moment we're given. Make each moment last as long as possible."

Owen closed his eyes for a few moments, enjoying the feel of her fingertips all over his face. As she finished speaking, he opened his eyes to look up at her, slowly smiling albeit a bit sadly. "You're right," he said, agreeing with her. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair again, brushing it behind her ear.

They kissed, each meeting the other halfway. Owen wrapped his arms around Nikita and pulled her against him, rubbing his hand up and down her back. She deepened the kiss, placing her hand on the side of his jaw as she lazily wrapped her tongue around his, trying with all her strength to take it slow, take pleasure in the moment and not rush anything.

After several moments, Owen firmly gripped Nikita and then flipped them over without breaking the kiss. As badly as he wanted to intensify their kissing, he kept it at a slow pace. Lazily, like they had all the time in the world. As far as Owen was concerned, today they did. They had nothing to do, no weapons or tools to go out hunting for. Today was going to be a day for them to just stay in bed and do whatever they wanted.

Almost as reluctant to break their kissing as he'd been to open his eyes only a few minutes ago, Owen slid his hands down Nikita's sides and trailed kisses down her chin and then all along each side of her jaw line. He slid his hands over the warm flesh of her thighs, dragging his fingertips along them as he did so, leaving pale white lines in her skin. He crawled back on the bed, kissing down her neck now, sucking on her skin here and there, even nipping at it. When he reached her chest, kissing between her breasts, Nikita sighed and tilted her head back.

"Mmmm," she murmured, raising her arms and gripping the pillow underneath her head. She sucked in her stomach as she felt Owen's lips reach her abs, sucking on her ribcage and then continuing on down to her hips. She arched her back and thrust her chest forward, her body alert and aching more attention from him.

Looking up at her, he smirked to see her arching her back, pleased that after all this time he could still get to her, knew what she liked. It was hard for him to not want to show her attention. How could he not? She was beautiful in his eyes and deserved all the attention she could get, and more. It had been so hard for him not to touch her all that time in Division with her, having Michael around being a cock-block. Now, though, he could touch her, kiss her, shower her with attention and affection as many times as he wanted and for as long as he wanted.

Sliding his hands down her legs, he pushed them down so she was stretched out on the bed. He crawled back as for as he could go without having to get off the bed. He started at her knee, pressing a few kisses to it (her knee jerked here from not being used to kisses here) and then brushed his lips up one thigh and then the other. He pulled himself forward, brushing his lips against her hips, then continued brushing them up along her body. He covered as much of her body as he could, not wanting to miss a single spot. When he reached her chest, he kissed between her breasts and then brushed his lips over the same spot before continuing up, ghosting his lips across her collarbone, scratching his lips against her chin, along her jaw line.

"What do you say," Owen started, teasing her by lowering his lips to hers and then pulling away before they kissed, "we just stay like this, in bed all day. Just be lazy for once in our lives, indulge ourselves like we haven't ever done before?" he suggested, one arm holding him up above her and his other hand cupping the side of Nikita's face. He gazed down at her eagerly, hoping she'd agree to his idea, want to stay like this all day. They had every right to. Have they not earned it after everything they've been through?

"Sounds perfect," she replied, causing Owen to grin widely as she grabbed him by the back of his head and leaned up to crush her lips against his. She rolled them over onto their sides, lacing her leg between his as she pressed herself as close as humanly possible to Owen, feeling every curve and muscle in his body pressed against hers.

They kissed each other with such intensity, like they'd been deprived of the other for months, for years. And in a way they had. Cupping the side of her jaw, Owen deepened the kiss more and more every minute as he became hungrier and hungrier for her. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, moving some of her dark hair away from her face as he did so. He'd missed the taste of her, the texture of her tongue, everything. He got lost in kissing her like she got lost in kissing him, too. The moment was just heavenly, the two of them alone, kissing like this would be their last kiss ever.

Just as the moment got heated and their states of arousal increased, the sound of the doorbell rang out throughout the house. Owen groaned, burying his face in Nikita's chest and wrapping his arms around her, holding her against him. "Don't answer it," he said, his words muffled since his face was still pressed against her chest. He pressed a few kisses to her neck, trying to tempt her to stay. A weird feeling washed over Nikita, a foreboding sensation that she didn't like. She tried to brush it off, smiling as Owen buried his face into her neck. She brought her hands up and ran them over his hair, kissing the top of his head.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, kissing him several more times on the top of the head. "I promise. Then we'll get right back to where we left off." After pressing several more kisses to the top of his head, Nikita finally (and reluctantly) freed herself from Owen's grip, grinning at him as she slipped on a robe, tied it around her waist, and then headed out to answer the door.

She faltered in her steps for a brief moment, the shape of whoever was standing outside familiar to her. She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole of the door, feeling her heart drop what felt like several hundred feet as she saw who was standing outside. She sighed, the sound of heartbreak and exhaustion and disbelief. Reaching out and placing her hand around the doorknob, she opened the door and looked at _him _with a mixture of fear and nervousness.

"Nikita," he said, with his usual deep, husky voice.

"Michael."

Her mind instantly went to Owen, still in bed and laying on his back, one arm across his torso and the other one stretched out across her side of the bed. _Maybe he was right_, she thought. Every time either of them were happy the universe went, _No, _and then brought something or someone in to cause friction.


	5. Stay

"What are you doing here?"

Michael scoffed, smiling in disbelief at Nikita's question. "What - what am I doing here?" he asked, setting his jaw and glaring at her. "What do you think I'm doing here? I'm here to bring you back. You're my fiance."

"No," Nikita said, sternly. "I'm not. And I am not going anywhere. I left you and the others to protect you. I'm not going back with you."

"Nikita, will you just let me in -" he began, taking a step forward and stepping inside. Nikita didn't bother to block his way, knowing not to argue with him. "We need to talk about things." Once inside, Michael turned around to face Nikita and then looked her over.

In the bedroom, Owen was relaxed until he heard a familiar and unwelcome voice. He was sincerely hoping he was just hearing things, that the voice the person belonged to wasn't really here. Getting out of bed, he slipped on a pair of jeans and grabbed a brown cotton v-neck from the floor. He straightened it out as he made his way to the living room.

"I should've known," Owen said, stopping dead in his tracks when he approached Michael and Nikita. He dropped his arms to his sides, the brown shirt still clutched in his hands. "I should've known," he added, more bitterly this time.

Michael looked from Nikita to Owen and finally back to Nikita, not wanting to process the sight before him. It disgusted him, the thought of _her _with _him_. It also enraged him to no end. "Are you kidding me?" he said, putting as much bitterness and disbelief and judgment in his tone as possible. "It sure doesn't take long for you to move on," he shot at Nikita, shaking his head at her. Owen clenched his fists at Michael's words to her, wanting to punch him for talking about her in such a way. He controlled himself, though. Like so many other times before.

"Michael, it's not -"

"I'm out of here," Owen said, cutting Nikita off. He put his shirt on, the anger he felt showing through his movements. He felt that hatred return, all those times he'd sunk so low when around Michael, feeling so bitter and hopeless all the time. Like a disease. Every time he had managed to feel better something would happen to make him relapse. And sure enough, it was happening again.

Just as Owen grabbed the keys from the hallway table, Nikita ran over to him and grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him. "Owen, please. Don't leave. Stay." She looked up at him imploringly, knowing what she was asking was so incredibly hard for him, perhaps dangerous, but she didn't want to be alone with Michael. She needed Owen by her side.

"No, let him leave, Nikita. He knows he's not wanted. It's something he's quite used to, isn't it, _Sam_? Not being _wanted_?" Michael gazed at Owen with a smug look on his face. As soon as Owen heard the words and even before he saw the look on his face, he jerked his arm away from Nikita and rushed over to Michael, punching him as hard as he could. Michael lost his balance and fell, pressing his fingertips to his cheek and jaw. "Nice shot," he acknowledged. "That was for all the times you were an asshole to me," Owen said. Finally getting to punch him again felt so goddamn good. He felt relieved. He knew he'd feel more relieved if they could go at it like two men, but he'd take what he could get.

Owen had the keys in his hand, clutching them so tightly he felt the edges digging into the palm of his hand, his skin burning. "I'm sorry, Nikita," he said, not meeting her eyes for several moments. When he finally looked at her, what he saw made his heart shatter into a million pieces. He was so close to giving in, saying yes and staying here with her, but he saw Michael out of the corner of his eye and that just set him off. "But I can't be around him. I'll be back in a few hours. If you're - if you're not here I'll understand." He furrowed his eyebrows at her, reaching his free hand up to stroke her jaw. He'd understand if she decided to leave with Michael. He'd understand but wouldn't ever be okay with it. He'd never be okay with losing her a second time. The thought of losing her hurt him too much.

Collecting himself, he cupped the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Nikita closed her eyes, a tear immediately rolling down her cheek. Why did this feel like goodbye? She hated it, that feeling. Feeling it now was even worse than when she'd felt it when leaving Michael and the others. It was infinitely more worse. She felt that unpleasant feeling course through her bones, from top to bottom. She lifted her hand and placed it on Owen's arm, willing him to stay, hoping she could hold him firmly enough to keep him where he was and exactly how they were right at this moment - his lips on her forehead, her body leaning into his. When he finally pulled away after several moments Nikita felt her heart drop and another tear streamed down her cheek.

Owen turned to leave, forcing his gaze to stay directly ahead and not look at either of the other two. As he left the house, getting closer and closer to the sidewalk, farther and farther form the house, he felt a dull ache in his heart. It was like when you pressed your fingers against a bruise, a feeling intense in it's own way, affecting every part of you. He blinked several times as he rounded the corner, reaching his hand up to feel a wetness on his cheek. Instead of driving somewhere, he decided to walk and clear his head.

Michael stood several feet behind her, watching her closely after Owen left. She didn't turn around right away to look at him. For a while he didn't think she ever would. The way she held herself made him sad even though he was still angry at her. She looked defeated, resigned. Ready to give up.

"Nikita," he started to say, his voice more gentle than he thought it could be.

"Don't." Nikita set her jaw, clenching her fists together at the grating sound of his voice. She was enraged now. With Michael, with everything, with herself. The anger was deep inside her, like a poison coursing through her veins. She tried to calm herself before turning around to face him, but her eyes were wide and her fists still clenched. "You. Ruin. Everything," she spit out, pressing her lips together.

"What?" he asked, scoffing. "What the hell are you talking about? Nikita, whatever's going on between you and Owen - _Sam _- you know it's - you have to know it's wrong. He's using you, he has to be. I don't know why, but - "

"Don't, Michael. Just don't. I have had enough. I am sick of hearing you degrade Owen at every turn. I should've seen it earlier. You've hated him from the beginning. You want to know something? Owen was on my side _first_. Before _you_. He saved me from you when you were trying to kill me. Kill _us_. And yes, there was something between us. There still is. He's not using me. He hasn't lied to me like you have so many times before. He doesn't patronize me like you do all the time. You have never believed in him just like you've never believed in me! That is all I've ever wanted from you. I've only ever wanted you to have faith in me. I have faith in Owen, you should've had faith in him, too. He's a good man, Michael. And you have done nothing but torment him. In his word, he thinks of you as a tyrant and I honestly don't blame him. You don't like anybody. You've ignored everyone I have ever cared about and treated them with such blatant disrespect."

This assault on his character caught him off guard. This side of her - it was something he wasn't used to, never saw. "What has gotten into you?" he asked, taking a few steps towards Nikita. "This isn't you, Nikita. Owen's a bad influence. He's turning you against me. I'm your fiance," he added, pleading as he reached out to take her hands in his.

Nikita pulled her hands away from him and then reached out to shove him away from her. He stumbled back, looking at her curiously. "I am not your goddamn fiance anymore. Get that through your head. And stop playing the victim, Michael. Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it? I can't possibly be happy with Owen, so you think he's, what, brainwashed me or something? You _suffocated _me. I was always trying to be someone I wasn't with you. You had me on a pedestal, constantly judging me. Never knowing who I really was and never truly understanding me. No more. I can finally be who I am with Owen."

"I loved you once and I will always love you, but I cannot give you what you want, Michael. I know you want a family after losing your first one. And I wanted so badly to give it to you, but I can't. I'm not - I'm not that person, okay? I'm not marriage or mother material. I never will be. I've never had a family, Michael. I've never known what that's like."

She wanted to say she'd come to know what having a home felt like with Owen; not just these past few months, but throughout their entire time together. Home, she realized, wasn't just a place, a solid place. Home was when you were with the person you were in love with. That was with Owen now. It always had been. She'd loved Michael but had never actually been in love with him. She'd settled for him. Owen made her realize what she could have. And would have.

"I can show you," Michael said gently, stepping closer to her. He placed his hands on either side of her face, looking earnestly at her. "We can be happy again, I promise." He would try harder to become a better person, be more patient, understand Nikita more. But her saying her didn't get her at all, constantly judged her, it irked him. Perhaps because it was true?

"No, you can't," she said, tears filling her eyes and her voice breaking. "And I don't want you to." Nikita shook her head regretfully, her eyes darkening. "I don't want you anymore, Michael. I know we've been through a lot, but it's all so exhausting. We've tried being happy, but it never works out. Every time things get good between us something happens and…" she trailed off, shrugging in defeat. She took a step back, causing Michael to drop his hands and take a step back as well.

He felt his world shattering. He'd wanted Nikita for so long, then he finally got her. Where had things gone so wrong that he was driving her away and into another man's arms? Was he really that bad of a person that she didn't want him anymore? "You're sure?" he asked, his voice low as he turned his back to her, taking a deep breath.

He could hear her inhale shakily, imagining her lifting her hand to wipe her cheeks, erase any evidence that she'd been crying. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's time we move on, Michael. It's - don't you think so? Things between us, they - we can't go back to how things were. There's no going back and there's no going forward from here. We can do better for ourselves. You deserve someone who can give you what you want. No matter how hard you try or what you say," she continued, when he turned around and opened his mouth to protest. "I'm not that person. We fooled ourselves into believing we could have a life together. We were doomed from the start. I have a chance to be happy with Owen. I _am _happy. He makes me happy," she said, laughing and smiling.

"Owen? He… makes you happy?" The way she was smiling and laughing, he'd never seen her do that before. It was like she'd had a sudden epiphany. And she had.

"Yeah, he does," she said, sighing and smiling slowly. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a few steps toward Michael. "I am sorry," Nikita continued. Michael turned away from her, unable to look at her. Nikita sighed sadly and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry for the way I handled things. I just - I need you to believe I left you all out of love. I didn't want any of you getting hurt or even dying for me." Even as she said it, it was a bit ironic. She'd left them out of love and care and had sought out Owen, someone she loved. She was putting him in danger just like she'd put everyone else in. But Owen was her equal in so many ways and she knew he could handle himself. He always had her back. Always would. They were partners in every respect.

"They miss you, you know," Michael said, deciding to change the subject. "Alex, Birkhoff, Ryan. Especially Ryan. Even Sean and Sonya." He knew Nikita and Ryan had kissed more than once, that Ryan still had a thing for Nikita, and it hadn't bothered him. Yet Owen had gotten under his skin and made him feel threatened. Everyone seemed to love her.

"How are they?" Nikita asked, eager to know. "How's Alex, and her and Sean?"

"Alex is as good as can be expected," he said, not entirely sure what to say. "She has Sean, that seems to be all that matters. She's doing better but she misses you the most."

Nikita smiled, looking down and thinking back fondly of Alex. She did miss that girl so much. They'd been through a lot together over the years. "Tell her I miss her, too." When Nikita looked up, Michael had opened his mouth and it looked like he was about to say something but then decided against it. "Tell them I'm not coming back. Division is dead now. It's time we all go our separate ways. Tell Alex that she's the strongest person I know and that she will do just fine without me. Tell her she has Sean now. She's come into her own and she deserves to be happy, just like you. Sean makes her happy. He can give her the life she should have. Tell her not to be afraid anymore."

She regretted a lot of things with Alex. Nikita had been so blind back at Division. She'd been so focused on Michael and wanting to get his hand back that she had failed to notice Alex struggling. Sean had been the one to notice and try to do something. He loved Alex and that was that mattered to Nikita. It was Sean's turn to look after her. Nikita had done all she could for Alex. It was time for them to move on. They were no longer the same people they used to be. Their motives, opinions, inspirations, ideals - everything that had made them one while taking on Division alone in the beginning was gone.

Her and Michael were quiet for several moments. It was tense for a while, then the atmosphere became relaxed. Finally Michael spoke up. "So this is really it? This is goodbye?" he asked, looking at Nikita helplessly.

"Yes," she said in a final tone. "It's time, Michael. I'm going to take care of Amanda so none of us have to run anymore. She's going down, but I don't want any of you to help me. Remember that. Whatever happens, just live your life."

She hesitated for a moment and then finally dropped her arms and stepped towards him, engulfing him in a hug. She held him close to her, feeling like this was the right thing to do. His arms wrapped around her, his hands on her waist and his fingertips digging into her side. Finally, she pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself again. She turned around, her back to him. She didn't want to see him go, thinking it'd be better that way. _Never look back_, she told herself. She thought of Owen, a smile creeping up on her face as she imagined his reaction to seeing her still here when he came back. _If_ he came back. _No, don't think that, _she told herself. _He's going to come back. _

The sound of a door closing brought Nikita out of her reverie and she turned around to find herself alone once more. She instantly felt the effect of Michael's absence. She felt sad and yet like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, her chest. She stared at the door for several minutes, almost as if she was waiting for it to open and for Michael to walk back in. She looked around the house. There was no sign he'd ever been here, which she thought it was odd. _It had all happened so fast_, she thought. So fast.

Pulling herself out of it, Nikita decided to take a quick shower. Quick turned into long, however, letting the hot water run down her body and soothe her muscles. Lingering in the shower and letting the water soak her body was, to her, a way of cleansing herself of the past, welcoming a new future. A better, brighter, happier future. She was determined to have it, one way or another.

Owen walked and walked and walked as far as his legs would take him. Which was pretty damn far. He was used to walking, running. He'd done it for so long, in the service and then when he was a part of Division. He was used to being on the move. Lately, though, he'd come to loathe having to move around so much. He wanted to settle in one place and with one person. That one person was Nikita. It'd always been her, even when he couldn't have her. When that dawned on him, he finally stopped walking and realized he was downtown. He hailed a cab, gave the driver the address and then settled into the backseat. He pressed his temple against the cold glass of the window, shutting his eyes and wondering what he'd find when he returned - well, it wasn't home. It was Morgan's home. He just wanted a home - with Nikita. They both deserved to have a place of their own called home, didn't they? What if she was gone when he returned? The thought brought back that bruised feeling around his heart, making Owen lose his breath. A part of him was sure she'd be there, waiting for him. And then another part, that negative and hopeless part, was telling him she'd gone back to Michael.

He was driving himself crazy with all these what ifs, so he finally forced himself to stop and clear his head. He told the driver to stop, handing him whatever money he had in his pocket and then got out and walked the three miles back to the house. The fresh air did wonders for him. The weather was the complete opposite of how he felt. It was warm and sunny outside, a soft wind adding to the loveliness of the day. Inside, Owen felt hollow, hopeless, dark, cold. You name it. He approached Morgan's house with a sense of unease and foreboding, afraid of what he would find on the other side of the door - or wouldn't find.

"Nikita?" he called out, opening the door. He stepped inside, looking around as he closed the door. Everything was just as he'd left it several hours ago. It was eerily silent, so silent he could hear his breathing, the tick of the clock, the dripping of the faucet water in the kitchen. "Nikita?" he called out again, this time more uncertain than before.

It was dark in the hallway, so Owen decided to round the corner and head into the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him, for a brief moment wondering if he was hallucinating. He wasn't, he wasn't. She was here. "Nikita?" he asked, letting out a shaky sigh and tossing the keys on the table across from him. "You're here," he continued, wanting to reach out and touch her since this seemed too good to be true. She stood before him, looking gorgeous as ever. Her dark hair was wavy around her shoulders, the sun shining through the blinds, illuminating her raven colored strands of hair and making it look lighter than it was. The sun's rays shone on her face, highlighting her cheeks, brightening her eyes to a honey color. The knee-length red dress she wore only complimented her further, accentuating her figure, showing off her arms, chest and collarbone.

"I'm here," she said, her voice as sweet as honey to his ears. She smiled adoringly at him and walked over to him, taking a hold of his hands. "And I'm staying," she continued, looking up at him and gazing into his baby blue eyes. "Michael and I talked. I told him that things between us could never be the same again. I told him that I want _you_."

"Me? You want me?" he asked, needing to hear it again. He felt his heart skip a beat, felt him grip her hands tighter as he gazed down at her. He'd gone so long believing she'd never be his. He needed to hear it, be certain she really wanted him.

"Yes. You," she said, laughing. She rubbed her lips together in thought before continuing. "I'm at my happiest when I'm with you. I always was. You've always been there for me, Owen. _Always_. It took me too long to realize that you always had faith in me when no one else did. That you believed in me before anyone else would."

"And you had faith in me when on one else did," Owen said, smiling at her. "Nikita, I - you - you say I've had faith in you. Your faith in me has meant the world to me. After Emily, I didn't want to live. But you - you gave me a purpose. I didn't want to get my hopes up, knowing what I did, but you inspired me."

Nikita smiled, removing one hand from his grip and lifting it to cup the side of his face. "I made the mistake of leaving you once before," she continued. "I am not going to make that mistake again."

Without another word between either of them, they both leaned in and crushed their lips against each other's. Owen wrapped his arms around Nikita and pulled her close, hugging her against his chest. In return, Nikita dragged her hands down Owen's chest as she kissed him hungrily, glad he had come back to her. He'd always come back to her. She wanted to believe that. They'd always find their way back to each other, no matter the difficulty.

Sliding his hands down her back, Owen grabbed onto Nikita's thighs and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he turned around and pushed her against the wall. She held onto him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and her other hand placed on his chest. He pressed himself against her, keeping one hand on her thigh while he brought his other hand up and grabbed a fistful of her hair as he kissed her greedily. He just wanted to feel her against him, run his hands all over her, feel her hands all over him.

He slid his hands around and cupped her ass, giving it a rough squeeze as he sucked on her bottom lip. Such sumptuous, kissable lips. Lips that has teased him for so long. So many times he had wanted to kiss her without restraint, show her how much he wanted her. He'd had to hold himself back but now he didn't. Owen could kiss her however, whenever, and as many times as he wanted and no one could do anything about it.

Deepening the kiss, Nikita lifted her hand and dragged her hand over Owen's hair and then ran her fingers through it before cupping the back of his head. She smiled when he cupped her ass, enjoying his hands exploring her body, the force of his kiss. The desperation of it. They were kissing each other with such urgency, something Nikita had never done before, she didn't think. She just knew she wanted Owen, wanted to kiss him all day, feel his hands all over her or run her hands all over him. All of the above, to be honest.

Needing to catch his breath, Owen broke the kiss and started kissing down Nikita's chin. She tipped her head back when he reached her neck, expecting him to kiss further down to her chest but he didn't. He stopped and buried his face in her chest, clutching onto her and breathing heavily. Smiling, Nikita wrapped her arms around him and held him, cupping the back of his head with one hand. She dipped her head to kiss the top of his, then rested her cheek against the top of his head.

Owen kept his face buried in her chest for several moments, his breath hot and bouncing off of her chest and into his face. He finally lifted his head to look up at her, smiling when she ran her fingers through his hair again and then traced her fingertips across his forehead and down his cheeks. He wanted to say something and as if Nikita sensed it, she shook her head and placed four fingers against his lips, smiling mischievously. She leaned down, kissing him ever so gently. They resumed kissing, this time less ferociously and more affectionately. Like two people who've been in love for years. Like two people who were ready to settle down, live life, have each other. They were tender with each other, kissing like they were both fragile creatures.

Slowly, Owen took a step back and bent down, slipping his arm under Nikita's legs and lifting her up into his arms. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he carried her back into the bedroom, remembering their earlier idea.

"Ah, yes," Nikita said, stretching out on her side with a smirk on her face, Owen right beside her. He placed his hand on her hip, rubbing it as he gazed at her. "What were we up to before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"This," Owen said, leaning in to kiss her. He slipped his arm around her, hugging her close against him again. She wrapped her top leg around his, pressing herself even closer against him. They were exactly like they were hours earlier, tangled together, kissing passionately, determined to spend the entire day in bed.

Later, out cold and curled up together, Nikita and Owen slept peacefully as Morgan checked in on them, feeling a burst of bitterness and jealousy at the sight of them looking so sickeningly happy. She closed the door, returning to her room. She tossed the towel she had used to dry her hair on the edge of the bed and dug her phone out of her bag. She dialed a number she didn't think she'd ever dial again, for any reason.

That cold, familiar voice made her flinch and for a moment she considered hanging up. She loved Owen and didn't want to see him get hurt. It was Nikita she hated. It was Nikita she wanted to see go and she knew only one woman who hated Nikita more and was capable of making that happen. "She's here." Morgan listened to the dragon's instructions, gritting her teeth at hearing she was to do nothing, play it cool, treat Nikita like they were best friends. _Keep her close and don't let her out of your sight_.


	6. Plotting

She stood by the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Sam at work in the kitchen. His every move she studied, noticing how smoothly he handled himself while at work. Morgan assumed it was because of his past as a Cleaner. You had to be quick and efficient for that job. Sam was just that. She always loved that about him.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan pushed herself away from the wall and went over to Sam. "Morning," she said, coming up beside him. She reached up and opened the cupboard, grabbing her coffee cup to pour herself some much needed caffeine.

"Hey," Owen replied, glancing over at her. "Haven't seen you much." He studied her for a moment before grabbing the toast that popped up out of the toaster oven a moment later, spreading butter over it with a knife and then adding a little cinnamon sugar. "I'm sorry if Nikita and I are in your way."

"_You _are not in my way," Morgan replied, bitterness unintentionally leaking its way out. After she poured herself some coffee, she took a sip of it and looked over and watched what Sam was doing. She remembered when he would make her breakfast on occasional mornings. It was either after a special night together or when it was her birthday. Now he was making breakfast for Nikita, who was fast asleep upstairs. In the bed she and Owen shared. Suddenly her coffee became bitter just like she was.

"Look, I know you don't like Nikita," he said, stopping what he was doing and turning to face her. "I know how hard this must be for you. I promise we'll get out of your hair soon. Find a new place."

"No, no," she said, coolly. "That's not necessary. Stay as long as you want. I've picked up extra shifts at the hospital, so I won't be around much anyway. Thanks for that, by the way," she continued, grinning at him. "Not being around here has made me pick up so many extra shifts that I've got even more money than before. I guess there's an upside to all this."

Owen laughed shortly and then went back to fixing breakfast for him and Nikita. He grabbed a tray and set the plate of food in the middle and then fixed a couple glasses of coffee, placing them on the tray with the food. Morgan turned and leaned against the counter, her gaze on Sam. She dropped her eyes, letting them roam over his body. She found herself quickly lusting after him, stepping closer to him.

Just as she reached out to touch him, Owen turned and gave her a small smile and then left the kitchen. Morgan let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and gripped her coffee cup so hard so felt her hand get sore, her fingers go numb. Taking a deep breath, Morgan walked out of the kitchen and hung out of sight, watching as Owen headed upstairs. Once he was out of sight, she hurried over to a room she'd converted to an office a few years ago, closing and locking the door behind her. She went to sit behind the desk, a laptop in front of her. She opened the laptop and then accessed the camera footage she had on it.

Morgan sat at the desk and watched as Sam took breakfast to Nikita. She was laying on her stomach, her bare back exposed. A good portion of it, actually. She could see a part of her phoenix tattoo. If Morgan didn't hate Nikita so much, she'd probably find her attractive and make-out with her.

Setting the breakfast tray on the bedside table, Owen gazed down at the sleeping form of Nikita. He smiled, finding her so beautiful when she was asleep. It was one of the few times when she looked peaceful, worry free. It'd been almost a month since Michael had paid them a visit and he was still trying to adjust to everything. Adjust to the fact that Nikita was finally his. It was just - he'd always been so pessimistic or content that he'd never get her. And now here she was. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, becoming so completely blissful and then have shit happen. At this moment, though, he allowed himself to feel completely at bliss as he gazed fondly down at her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Owen reached out and ran his hand down her bare back, sliding it under the sheet and then continuing to run his hand over her ass. He moved his hand back up, resting it on her shoulder for a moment before playing with her hair. He tucked a strand behind her ear and then caressed her cheek. Nikita slowly woke, feeling a familiar hand on her back, her ass, her shoulder. When she felt that person playing with her hair and then caressing her cheek, a smile formed on her face. "Mm, that's a very nice way to wake up," she said, her voice thick with sleep.

Opening her eyes, Nikita gazed up at Owen and smiled broadly at the sight of him. Smiling back at her, Owen placed his hand on her arm and leaned down to kiss her on the top of her head. "It was hard for me to wake you. You look so beautiful and peaceful when asleep, but I made us breakfast." He then kissed her on the lips, sliding his hand up to cup the back of her neck.

He ran his hand over her hair after they kissed, pulling away to gaze at her for a moment. "Come on, let's eat," he said, leaning over to grab the tray. He turned so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard, balancing the tray of food on the bed in front of him and Nikita. "I made toast and eggs," he continued, grabbing a piece of toast and biting into it.

"Hm," Nikita said as she pulled herself up, holding the white sheet against her chest. She inspected the food, earning a curious gaze from Owen. "Well, it's just – remember the last time you made me breakfast?" she asked, and when he nodded she continued. "This is so plain and simple compared to that breakfast," she teased, suppressing a smirk.

"Well, in that case I'll just take all this and eat it by myself out in the kitchen," he replied, pretending to be offended as he reached out and grabbed the tray. Nikita laughed, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist with both hands.

"You'll do no such thing," she said, pushing him back down. "I will always love whatever you make me to eat." Owen was the first person since Daniel to ever make her anything to eat, let alone bring her breakfast in bed. She loved being spoiled by Owen. It'd been a long, long time since she'd allowed herself to be pampered. She had earned it, the right to be spoiled and pampered. After fighting so long, she was beginning to get weary. These past months with Owen had been the best and had made her realize she wanted to stop, but she knew Amanda was still out there. Still a threat. Once she took Amanda down she could finally relax.

Nikita finished off the toast and ate a few bites of the eggs, then left everything else to Owen. After taking a sip or two of her coffee, she stretched out on her side and gazed at Owen as he ate, curling her arm underneath her head and holding the sheet to her chest. When he finished eating, Owen set the tray of food on the floor and then turned to look at Nikita, a grin on his face.

"What are you grinning about over here?" he asked, rolling her over onto her back and hovering above her, using his right arm to prop him up as he gazed down at her. "I've never seen you smile so much." He really never had. He wasn't complaining, though. She had a beautiful smile and it only accentuated her beauty, look even kinder than she was. Nikita smiling was something Owen loved and would always love. How could he not?

"You," she answered, her grin turning into a soft smile as she gazed up at him. She reached a hand up, placing her fingertips on his cheek. "I'm probably going to sound incredibly flaky when I say this, but… these past few months here with you – I've never felt more at home."

"Why would that be flaky?" he asked, though he had a feeling why. _Him_.

"Because of Michael," she answered, proving his idea right. "I mean, we were together for quite a while, then we got engaged. I really did love him, but the entire time I was with him a part of me loved you, too. Now that I'm finally here with you again I'm remembering how things were. How happy I was and I now realize how miserable I was with Michael sometimes and didn't feel at home, even if I wanted to feel that way. I'm not the type of woman whose affection changes with every wind. I don't want to be but I feel that way."

"Nikita," he said, bringing his hand up to press two fingers against her lips. She stopped talking and even kissed his fingers, which made him smile. "Trust me, you're not that type of woman. You're not like anyone else I've ever met. And you are entitled to love whoever you want. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied, her voice low as she nodded. Owen leaned down to kiss her, the kiss immediately reassuring her and making her feel better. She wrapped her arms around him and drew one of her legs up, the sheet falling off as she wrapped her leg around Owen's own leg as they kissed.

Morgan shut off the computer just as Nikita began to run her hands all over Owen, sliding them under his shirt. She leaned back in the chair, sipping her coffee and staring out the window. She checked the time on the clock. She'd be here any minute. Hell, she probably was already here. Morgan set her cup down and headed upstairs to get dressed, not bothering to tell Nikita and Owen she was going out. Donning her leather jacket, she drove to the meeting place a few miles away at the parking lot of the abandoned mall. Morgan got out and waited, leaning against the hood of her car for several minutes. Even when she felt a presence behind her she didn't move to look. "How much longer?" she asked, her hands clenched in the pockets of her jacket.

"Not long," the cold voice promised, her gaze steady on Morgan.

"You keep saying that, but I don't believe you, Amanda." Morgan finally turned around to face Amanda, relieved and yet annoyed to see her. She was relieved because Amanda could help her get rid of Nikita, but she was also annoyed because she'd spent so long avoiding her and running from her and all of Division. One woman ruined it all ever so quickly.

"A couple more days – five at most - then I'll have what I need. And once I have what I need I can finally take her down. Just be patient, Morgan."

"I have been patient," Morgan snapped, walking quickly to the other side of the car to stand face-to-face with Amanda. "I've done everything you've wanted, now give me what I want and what I know you want as well. Nikita dead."

Amanda smiled playfully, lifting a hand to brush a lock of Morgan's dark hair behind her ear. "We'll get there. What have I taught you? If you rush things there will be too many mistakes. The more patient we are, the more smoothly and successfully this will go. Nikita is going down."

She knew how Amanda could be. The bitch was cunning and manipulative, worked situations and people to her advantage. She frightened Morgan so she nodded and kept quiet. A couple more days wouldn't hurt, she thought. Days are better than weeks. "What about our other arrangement?" she asked. "Sam?"

"I don't care about him any longer," she said dismissively. "He will not be harmed, as you wish."

"You should know him and Nikita have formed an attachment," she said, hesitating for a slight second. "They're lovers now."

"Really? What an interesting development. What of Michael?"

"He was here. The two of them had a confrontation. Nasty, rather. She's over him. He's useless just like he's always been. He won't benefit us."

"Well, I have to admit I'm a bit relieved. He was rather tedious. Continue to monitor Nikita and Owen. Let me know of any changes of import until I next contact you."

Morgan nodded, and with that Amanda left. Remaining rooted to the spot, Morgan let out a heavy sigh and looked around her. The area was empty and bleak – just how she was feeling at the moment. All she wanted was Sam and to be happy, free of Division. She was so close to getting it, but she was afraid. The closer she usually got to something, the farther it got away from her.

She just wanted her happy ending, but was it meant to be?


	7. Surprises

She felt sick. She'd been feeling a bit weird for a few weeks now. Nikita had just brushed off any worries, figuring she was just coming down with something. People got sick all the time. As healthy as she ate, even she got sick now and again and managed to work despite it. But this time it felt different. Her body felt different.

Nikita turned to look at Owen asleep beside her. The sight of him made her smile. He looked so cute when he was asleep. There were times at night and especially in the mornings when she woke before him that she'd just gaze at him. She'd studied his face so much she knew every curve, every line, every vein. Nikita reached her hand out and briefly caressed his chin before pulling the covers off of her and getting out of bed. She put some clothes on and then headed to the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face and then made her way down to the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Morgan at the counter, pouring herself some coffee.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving soon," Morgan said, sensing Nikita behind her. "You and Sam will have the house to yourselves tonight." And then hopefully by this time tomorrow the house would belong to only Morgan once again.

"I'm sorry," Nikita said, leaning against the wall and gazing at Morgan. "I know it can't be easy for you to see O – Sam here like this. With me."

Morgan scoffed, turning around and leaning against the counter to stare at Nikita. "You're right. It's not easy to see my ex-fiance whom I thought dead with another woman. Especially when – " she broke off, about to say she was still in love with him. "It is hard, seeing someone you still care about moving on and being happy with someone else." She hated to admit it, but she had an inkling of how Michael was probably feeling. She still hated him, though. "I just always thought – I don't know. I guess in our line of work relationships never work out."

"That's not true. We can make them work if we want them bad enough." Nikita swayed slightly and then went over to take a seat at the table in the corner of the kitchen.

"Are you all right?" Morgan asked, becoming concerned despite her hatred for Nikita. The doctor in her came out. Whenever she saw someone ill she immediately became a caregiver. Morgan set her coffee cup down and pressed the back of her hand against Nikita's forehead. "You're warmer than usual. A bit of a fever. How are you feeling?" she asked, pressing two fingertips against Nikita's neck, taking her pulse.

"A bit light-headed, fatigued. Nauseated. Tired most of all." Nikita closed her eyes, letting Morgan examine her. She wasn't stupid; she had a feeling she knew what was wrong with her but it was so outrageous she didn't want to think about it. It couldn't be. It couldn't happen to her.

"Nikita, have you considered that –"

"Yes, I have," she said, knowing what Morgan was going to ask. She opened her eyes and stood up, face-to-face with Morgan. "And I refuse to accept the idea, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to Owen."

"Of course," she said, then added, "I have to get ready to go out," and left the kitchen. She really did get dressed, but then once she was finished and had collected her things, she texted Amanda this new development and then went to work.

Nikita remained seated at the table, staring blankly ahead and out the window across from her. The thought of being pregnant terrified her. She wasn't mother material, not one bit. She loved kids, yes. She always felt the need to protect them because they were innocent, but she'd never imagined being a mother. Well, she did once. She'd contemplated running away with Daniel and starting a family. But he had died and things had changed, including herself. Having a family was something Nikita had never anticipated, not a traditional one.

Upstairs, Owen began to wake. He rolled over onto his side and extended his arm, expecting Nikita to be there. When he met an empty space, he opened his eyes and then lifted his head to look around. After a moment, Owen pulled himself out of bed and put on a pair of pants then headed downstairs. He rubbed his eyes as he entered the kitchen, spotting Nikita alone at the corner table.

"Did Morgan leave?" he asked, walking over to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. He took a seat across from her, slouching down in the chair.

Nikita smiled, admiring him shirtless for a moment before answering. "Yeah, she left a few minutes ago. We've got the place all to ourselves," she added, smirking.

"Oh, really?" Owen asked, smirking right back. "Hm, interesting. What should we do?"

"Well," Nikita started, deciding not to tell him what was on her mind and instead decided to just try and enjoy their alone time together. She slid out of the chair and went over to Owen, who pushed the chair back just as Nikita straddled his lap. He placed his hands on her thighs as she said, "I thought a little cardio might be nice. We've been awfully lazy."

"Lazy, huh? I thought we've been getting in a lot of cardio, to be honest," he teased, sliding his hands over her ass and then giving it a squeeze. He kept his hands there on her ass as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

"I have _that_ cardio in mind as well as another kind," Nikita replied, sighing and closing her eyes as Owen kissed her collarbone. She tipped her head back, exposing her neck. Owen seized that moment and kissed up her neck, his hands slowly traveling up her back. "So…you better…pace yourself," she struggled to say, the kisses Owen was pressing to her neck making her lose her breath. She hated to do what she was about to, but she had no choice. She pushed herself off of his lap and then turned around and walked seductively out of the kitchen.

Owen sighed, watching her leave after getting him aroused just like the tease she was. After a moment, he got up and followed her upstairs, back to the bedroom. He stood by the doorway, watching her change out of her current clothes and into a pair of capri exercise pants and a tank top, unashamedly perving on her.

"I guess I'm gonna have to come with you," he said, still looking her over. It'd been a while since he'd gone on a run. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't ever remember going on runs with Nikita. Out in the field yes, but this was different. This running was for fun. "This is going to be interesting," he added, and then went to change into a pair of shorts and a shirt.

Once they were ready and had everything they needed, Nikita and Owen went for a run. She took it easy on him at first, going slow and deciding to increase their speed later and towards the end. She reached out and patted his stomach now and then, encouraging him on every time she picked up her pace.

She hadn't noticed that Owen had fallen behind. Not until it was too late. He came up behind her and surprised her, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder and took off running. She laughed, holding onto him and rather enjoying the view from this perspective. Owen kept one arm firmly around Nikita, his hand on her ass. He set her down after about twenty minutes, feeling out of breath. He doubled over, resting his elbows on his knees to catch his breath.

"You know, being with you is making me realize how slightly out of shape I am," he joked, looking at her and grinning.

"Ah, you're not that out of shape," she said, coming to stand behind him. She rubbed his back as he remained doubled over, massaging his back to loosen up his muscles. "You do know you're one of the only people who can keep up with me. That's quite something."

"That makes me feel a lot better," he said, referring to the fact that he was one of the few who could keep up with her. He also meant the massage she was giving him. He could already tell he'd be a bit sore tomorrow, but a good form of sore. Once he'd finally gotten his breath back to a more normal state and felt himself get a bit cold after working up such a sweat, he straightened up and turned around to face Nikita. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close against him. "Now what do you say we head back and find a way to relax?" he suggested, an idea already forming in his head.

"Mmm," she murmured, tipping her head back and pressing her lips together in thought. "That sounds…like a good idea. I'll race you back," she added, and before Owen could say anything Nikita had managed to get out of his grip and was already ahead of him.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Owen gave her a head start and then caught up with her. He wanted to chase her, but knew she'd enjoy being challenged better, so he picked up his pace and got a few feet in front of her. Nikita gritted her teeth and pushed herself, coming up beside Owen moments later. They were both running at top speed, a little smile on both their faces.

"I haven't gone on a run like that since… well, ever," Owen said, coming to a stop outside Morgan's house. He doubled over again, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Get used to it," Nikita grinned, patting him on the back. "But now we can finally cool off," she added, bending down to whisper in his ear.

Nikita hurried inside and took her shoes off, but took her time going upstairs and taking her shirt off as she ascended the staircase. Owen followed behind her, catching her tank top as she threw it at him over her shoulder. When she reached the top of the staircase, Nikita took off her capris and tossed them at Owen, heading to the bathroom in just her sports bra and underwear. As they passed the bedroom they were using, Owen tossed her clothes in there and then began to take his own clothes off, quickly pulling his shirt off and tossing it in the bedroom.

Once in the bathroom, Nikita started the shower and made sure the water was warm enough before taking the rest of her clothes off and getting inside. Owen stepped into the shower a few moments later, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her front as he pressed kisses to the back of her neck. Sighing, she tipped her head back and rested it against Owen's shoulder. Turning his head, Owen began to kiss along the side of her neck, sucking on her flesh now and then. He slid his hands up her torso, over her breasts. He cupped her breasts, massaging them with his hands as he sucked on the side of her neck. Nikita let out a soft moan, pressing herself closer against Owen. She was enjoying every moment, but at the same time she wanted even more. She wanted him to just push her against the shower wall and pin her body to it with his own, take her from behind. The more she thought about it, the faster her heart began to race and the more she became aroused.

Feeling himself harden, Owen decided enough already and turned and pushed Nikita against the wall. He leaned back, his gaze traveling up and down her back, appreciating the view. He ran his hands down her back and then brushed his hands over her ass. Leaning forward again, he brushed some hair away from her neck and dipped his head down to kiss the back of it, reaching down to grab his cock and position himself inside her. He placed one hand on the shower wall to support himself and then wrapped his other arm around Nikita's waist, placing his hand right above her pelvis. He let out a low grunt every time he thrust himself inside her, pressing her closer against him with the arm he had wrapped around her.

Tipping her head back, Nikita placed both her hands on the wall, her eyes falling shut as Owen picked up his pace. She let out a moan, which encouraged him on as she felt him slide his hand down her pelvis and then between her legs. He slipped two fingers between her folds and then found her clit, massaging it as he bit down on her shoulder. Arching her back, Nikita pressed her butt against Owen and thrust her chest forward, spreading her legs a little wider to allow Owen to penetrate her deeper. He felt so good, this felt so good.

She had never been this amorous before and wasn't sure when she'd become this way. Maybe it was him. When they'd been together for those few months, she'd always had her hands all over him whenever they were alone. They'd always kissed, touched each other, done everything. They'd never taken a moment for granted. Perhaps going so long without him had made her this way. Being deprived of something you loved for a certain amount of time later made you yearn for it as much as possible.

Owen gave one last rough thrust, pushing Nikita against the wall with the force as they both came. She curled her fingers against the cool linoleum, breathing heavily. Owen rested his body against her back, sagging against her. He brought his hands up to cup her breasts once more, massaging them as he kissed across her shoulders. She placed her hands over his for a moment, then trailed her hands up his arms, wrapping her arms around herself as she also wrapped her arms around him. She was more than content to remain like this, their bodies pressed together, the warm water trickling down their bodies. The feel of his build against her was comforting, her head tipped back and the side of it resting against Owen's head, his face buried into the side of her neck. She brought one hand up and cupped his head, smiling.

After finally forcing themselves out of the shower, they each dried off and then put some fresh clothes on. They talked for hours, lying in bed on top of the covers, Nikita's head resting in Owen's lap. He listened and gazed at her, running his fingers through her hair. A few times she'd been close to sharing her fear that she might be pregnant, but the moment together was too sweet and she didn't want to ruin it. Eventually, Nikita fell asleep with her head still in his lap. Owen continue to stroke her hair long after she had passed out, admiring her asleep until he himself fell asleep, his hand resting on her shoulder.

At half past two in the morning there was a loud crashing sound coming from downstairs that jerked Nikita and Owen awake. Nikita groaned as she pushed herself up, rubbing her head and running her fingers through her hair. "Did you hear that?" she asked, looking at Owen.

"It's probably Morgan," he said, but didn't sound entirely sure. The way he said that was cute, Nikita thought. So innocent and unsure but wanting to be sure. Owen got out of bed and opened the door, peering out into the dark hallway for a moment before stepping out into it. Nikita got up and followed him, checking the rooms upstairs first before following him downstairs.

Owen reached back a protective hand, trying to keep Nikita behind him for now. He was reaching out to flip on a light when all of a sudden someone came out of nowhere and hit him on the back of the head with the butt of a gun, knocking him unconscious and falling to the ground. Nikita gasped and took a few quick steps towards him but whoever had knocked him out grabbed Nikita and roughly pulled her away.

"He'll be fine," Morgan said.

"Morgan?!" Nikita exclaimed, shocked that it was her who had hurt Owen and who was now pulling her way from him. Regaining her senses, Nikita used her back and threw herself against Morgan, shoving her backwards. "Why are you doing this?" Nikita asked, outraged.

"She's following my orders," said a cold voice behind Nikita.

Nikita spun around, her eyes widening in recognition and surprise. "Amanda."

"Hello, Nikita," Amanda replied, smiling scarily sweet for a moment before hitting her across the face with her own gun. She fell to the ground at Amanda's feet. Amanda stared at her limp form for a moment and then looked up, taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily and slowly. She slowly smiled as she looked from Nikita to Owen and back, a smug look on her face.


	8. Face to Face

_Two weeks ago_

The only light came from the sun's rays shining through the blinds, dust visible and highlighted by the rays in the room. Nikita sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and lost in thought. She was oblivious to Owen watching her with a concerned gaze; unaware he'd been standing across from her for almost fifteen minutes now.

He simply loved gazing at her, but he also didn't want to interrupt her. She was so lost in thought and he had a feeling he knew why. He knew who she was thinking of him. It was only a matter of time before Amanda took over her thoughts again, plaguing her dreams. Nikita had had a couple bad dreams, nightmares, rather. Each had been about Amanda. The first dream involved Alex, Michael, Birkhoff, Ryan and Sean all dying in front of her. That'd been frightening, but she claimed the second dream had been infinitely worse. In the second dream, Amanda had tortured and killed Owen in front of her and Nikita had been helpless, forced to watch. She'd startled awake, sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

Sighing heavily, Owen walked over to Nikita and sat beside her on the bed. She came out of her reverie as soon as he sat down next to her and placed his hand on her knee. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with such sadness. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice low.

"I'm thinking about Amanda," Nikita said slowly, weighing her words. Amanda was always on her mind, even when she didn't really know it. She's like a disease that won't go away. "What if I can't stop her? What if she's an immovable force and I'm not as strong as I think?" She'd been so determined all the times before. She'd always beaten Amanda. A day would come when Amanda would get the best over Nikita and possibly win. And it was a scenario that scared her because how many people dying would be involved? "I try to think like her. What would Amanda do, you know?"

"Hey, hey," Owen said, stopping her. He gripped her knee and shook her gently, leaning in closer to her. "First off, Amanda is not invincible. No one is, not even you. Second, you are strong. You're the strongest person I know, Niki. Third, you gotta stop thinking that way. You gotta stop thinking like Amanda. Stop thinking like Division. Division is dead, remember? There are no rules anymore and you've always – almost always – played by the rules. Amanda never has. She's played by her own rules for years. You need to start playing by _your_ own rules." He knew she needed to start thinking like the Nikita he first met, when she'd been on her own in that loft. Back then, she'd done things her way. These past few months she'd had to adjust to being inside Division. Things had changed again. "Follow your heart, do what you're good at. Don't be afraid to get dirty, though. Sometimes it helps, but don't damage your conscience. I know how you are. If you ever did something heinous, you would never be able to live with yourself, Niki. Do what you _can_ do, what you _know_ you can do. Use Amanda's weaknesses against her. You're her weakness, you know that? You are." Owen paused, lifting his hand to brush the back of his fingers against the side of her jaw as she gazed at him, drinking in his every word.

"She loved you," Owen continued. "In my experience, when love is unrequited – whether it be romantic love or platonic love or maternal love – that kind of love turns into either apathy or hatred. Amanda's love turned into hatred. Somewhere deep inside her, there's love for you. And I think a part of you loves her, too. She's had plenty of opportunities to kill you, but she hasn't. I know she's hesitated before. The love never goes away. It just gets buried deep inside the person, becomes dormant. Amanda may be a monster, but aren't we all? What makes her better than us? Just play by your rules, Nikita. You always know what to do in the end. You've made some of the most difficult decisions, decisions other people would never be able to make."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Nikita felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. She was so used to giving other people pep talks, but to be on the receiving end of one – and one from Owen, who seemed to always know what to say to inspire her – it was kind of nice. She got sick of talking now and then, at times at a loss what to say. Silently with a smile on her face, Nikita dropped her arms from around her legs and leaned to the side and against Owen, who wrapped his arms around her. They both fell back on the bed and Owen wrapped one arm around her chest and rested his other arm above her head, running his fingertips over her hair. Nikita wrapped her arms around his, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his. It was moments like this she missed. He'd always held her when she needed to be held and when she did not. She usually hid her vulnerabilities, putting on a strong front that most people associated her with. But around Owen she could let down her guard and be comforted by someone else.

She wasn't sure if she could really defeat Amanda, but she'd go down with a fight. She didn't want anyone else to die, she was certain of that. Nikita didn't want anyone sacrificing themselves for her. She was going to take on Amanda herself.

_Present day_

Opening her eyes, Nikita blinked several times to clear her vision. Her head and her face throbbed with pain, as if she'd been hit with something hard. She had, she remembered, as everything came back in slow progression. She realized she was slumped down on the floor, handcuffed to the water heater. Nikita sighed and gingerly pressed her hand to her cheek. It stung and she hissed and dropped her hand.

"Sleeping Beauty is finally awake, I see," came a familiar voice across from her. Nikita turned her head and Amanda came into focus. She smiled at Nikita, no warmth or amusement in her eyes. Nikita couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Amanda smile with genuine happiness. "What, not going to say hello?" she asked.

"Where's Owen?" Nikita asked, quickly scanning the dim room and seeing that it was just her and Amanda.

Amanda sighed, an air of disappointment in the sound. "He's with Morgan," Amanda answered. "Don't worry, she's taking very good care of him," she added, getting under Nikita's skin.

"Oh, I'm sure she's taking special care of him." Nikita shook her head, hiding her bitterness. She'd tried showing compassion to Morgan, not get in her way. Now look how things turned out. She tried to understand, though, why Morgan had done what she had. The one motive she realized– the thing that drove women the most – was love.

"I never thought I'd ever see you jealous, of all people," Amanda said, standing up and going over to Nikita. She crouched down in front of her, getting eye to eye with her. "Morgan was not lying. You're in love with him," she continued, amazed. "What about your precious Michael?"

"It's over between us," she said, referring to her and Michael. She stared Amanda in the eyes as if challenging her to say more on the matter.

"Hm. And here I thought you two were frustratingly invincible. I wonder why I never saw you and Owen. I guess it's because he killed Daniel. I didn't think you'd ever get with someone like that, like Owen. The man who killed your first fiancé."

"And I killed Alex's father and dozens of other people," Nikita snapped back. She was sick of everyone bringing up the fact that Owen killed Daniel. It'd taken her a while to come to terms with that, but she eventually had. She and Owen had overcome that and she'd forgiven him, they'd moved on. "Both Owen and I have been forced to do things we didn't want to do. Things that shamed us, that changed us. We're all killers. We're not any better than the other. I'm no better than you and you are certainly no better than me, Amanda."

"I've never claimed to be better than you," Amanda replied coolly. "I don't do any of this out of some trite vain reason," she continued, shaking her head disappointedly at Nikita.

"Why then?" Nikita asked, seizing the moment. She had always considered hatred to be Amanda's motive for her actions. Hatred mixed with a bit of greed and vanity and power. It was no secret Amanda had wanted sole control of Division. She'd had it for a short while before Percy had gained control of it again. "What drives you, Amanda?"

Amanda opened her mouth, about to say something when she hesitated. Her reasoning was far more complex than Nikita could imagine and therefore harder to explain. What made sense to one person did not always make sense to another.

When Amanda said nothing and simply stood up, Nikita sagged against the wall and sighed. She watched as Amanda walked around the room in contemplation and then suddenly stop as if a light bulb went off in her head. "No more talking," Amanda said, turning to face Nikita. Amanda pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and texted someone. A few moments later, she heard the door open and a man she didn't recognize entered and approached Amanda. He was around Amanda's age, with a scarred face and an overall leathery look about him. Nikita could tell he'd been through struggles and fights, winning and losing a fair share of them.

Amanda and her co-conspirator retreated to a corner where Nikita couldn't hear them, even though Nikita leaned forward and tried to hear what they were talking about in hushed whispers. After several agonizing moments, the scarred man detached himself from Amanda and made his way upstairs. Immediately, Nikita felt her stomach flip in dread. When she tore her gaze away from the stairs leading upstairs, she met Amanda's wicked gaze.

"NO!" came a shout from upstairs and Nikita recognized Morgan's voice. There was a shuffle and then a loud crash, then finally silence. Nikita looked back at the stairs, her heart racing in anticipation. When she saw a pair of boots and then legs and finally his body, Nikita let out a strangled sound and turned away. Amanda's cohort was carrying an unconscious Owen over his shoulder. When he entered the living room, he dropped Owen carelessly on the floor. A moment later, Nikita could hear hurried footsteps from upstairs coming down to join them.

With a frantic look on her face, a bruise on her cheek and her hair wild and strands sticking to her lips, Morgan joined them. "Amanda! You promised," she begged, getting dangerously close to Amanda, who simply kept her head tilted, her eyes narrowed and was slowly walking backwards. It was moments like these when Amanda was silent and had that look about her – a look that made Nikita think of a snake – that Nikita was frightened of Amanda. Morgan was too hysterical to be scared of her. She was more scared of Owen. Amanda had promised not to hurt him, but Morgan was realizing she should never have trusted Amanda. Her promises were worthless. All Amanda cared about was herself and getting what she wanted. "Amanda, please. Don't hurt him," Morgan continued, not giving up yet. "There must be another way to break her."

Nikita's eyes shot from Morgan to Amanda in a split second, Amanda turning to look at Nikita at the exact same moment. Before Amanda had even decided her next move, Nikita knew what she was going to do. She opened her mouth and started to say something, but Amanda's voice was higher than hers.

"Morgan," came Nikita's voice, weak compared to the coldness of Amanda's voice.

"Your service is no longer required," Amanda said severely. She reached behind her, pulled out her gun, lifted it and pointed it at Morgan's head. She pulled the trigger, not even hesitating, and Morgan's head jerked back and she fell to the ground, dead. "Shall we begin?" Amanda said, looking at Nikita, her arm hanging by her side and the gun still in her hand, finger on the trigger.

Looking from Amanda to Morgan to Owen and then finally back at Amanda, Nikita swallowed hard and fought back fear. Fear not for her but for Owen. Whatever Amanda had in mind, it was for Owen. She was going to use Owen to get to Nikita. Her nightmare was going to come true.


	9. Revenge

She stared at his unconscious form on the ground. Amanda had her back turned toward them, her accomplice outside getting 'equipment,' as Amanda had put it. Nikita extended her leg, trying to reach Owen and maybe nudge him awake. She tried to be quiet as she did that, also pulling on her handcuffs. The pipe wouldn't budge, but if she kept trying at every opportunity she was afforded, Nikita was positive she could get it loose enough that she could slip the cuffs off the pipe and free herself.

At the sound of a groan, Nikita was distracted from trying to free herself and her gaze immediately went to Owen, who was waking up. "Owen?" she asked, urgency in her voice. Owen seemed to hear the urgency, for he shook himself awake and looked up and around the room, alert now.

When he saw Amanda standing across from him, he groaned and lowered his head down to the ground. "I should've killed you when I had the chance," he grumbled.

"Oh, good," Amanda said, turning around facing Owen and Nikita. "The other lover is awake. Excellent. We can get started."

"What are you gonna do?" Owen asked. "Psychoanalyze us to death. Just put us out of our misery."

"No, no. I've used every form of psychology on the pair of you as I can," she continued, walking around Owen on the floor, gazing at him amorously. Amanda knelt down beside him, tracing her fingertips down his lips and his chin, and then down his chest. He would've reached up to choke her if he could, but his hands were tied. "It's time to get dirty," she added, suddenly grabbing Owen roughly and hoisting him up to a sitting position. "On your knees," she said coldly. Owen did as she commanded, getting on his knees and facing Nikita. He avoided her gaze, but he felt its intensity, felt her begging to look at him. He didn't dare. Not yet.

"What are you planning, Amanda?" Nikita asked, looking from Owen to her. "Why not just stop this? We don't have to go on fighting. We can resolve this thing between us like rational human beings."

"We're past that," Amanda said, turning to Nikita. "Frankly, I'm tired of symbolic attacks against you. Of manipulating you and using you. I've moved on, Nikita. What I want to do to you right now," she continued, kneeling in front of Nikita and closing her hand around her jaw, tilting her head back. "I want to cause you pain. I want you to know what it feels like, to watch the one you love suffer tremendous pain to the point of begging for death. And then after I finish with Owen, I'm going to start on you and I will not stop until you beg me to kill you." Amanda took a deep breath, her tone of voice and her expression intense, tight. She loosened her grip on Nikita's jaw, the imprints from her fingers there slowly fading as Amanda stood up.

Amanda's scarred accomplice had returned unnoticed, lurking in the shadows with a trunk by his feet. He nodded at Amanda and knelt down, opening the trunk for her. Amanda bent over and picked up a truncheon, the club law enforcement officers usually carry with them for defense or – on occasion – which they used to abuse their position of power. In this case, Amanda's reason for using the truncheon was the latter option.

Taking a deep breath as she lifted to truncheon and ran her hand over it in a rather sexual manner, Amanda went to stand behind Owen, whose gaze was still focused on the floor and not Nikita. He felt Amanda trail the tip of the truncheon along his shoulders, felt her knees pressed against his back. His body was tensed, waiting for her big move, while Nikita wasn't sure where to look. She'd focus on Owen for a while and then she'd switch her focus to Amanda. She almost wanted to tell Amanda to just get on with it, not enjoying her drawing out everything like she always did.

As Nikita opened her mouth, Amanda took a step back, raised her arm, and then hit Owen on the back with the truncheon. She hit him again and again and again until he fell forward, burying his face against the floor to muffle any sound coming from his mouth and to hide the pain from her and Nikita. Amanda kicked him with her foot, turning him onto his side and then gesturing for her accomplice to come straighten him again, get him on his knees.

"This is the game," Amanda finally said, reaching down to trace her fingers along Owen's face. He faced her now, his back to Nikita. "We're going to see who breaks first." Without another word, Amanda hit him across the face with the truncheon and every time he fell Amanda's companion would grab him and set him up right again. "This is Jaeger, by the way," Amanda said, realizing she'd been rude not to introduce them to him earlier. "Jaeger here is ex-mercenary. Disowned by his own country. Germans for you, right? Anyway, I met Jaeger here about a month ago. In exchange for his help, I'd give him what he wants – revenge on those who betrayed him. We all like a little bit of revenge. Now, enough with talking," she added, her expression going from pleasant and amused to cold and indifferent as she walked around Owen and hit him as hard as she could on the back with the truncheon, and then hit either side of his arms.

Nikita flinched every time she heard the sound of the club hitting Owen. She felt every blow as if she was being beaten, too. She might as well have been. Seeing Owen, someone she loved, being beaten in front of her and being unable to do anything – it hurt more than anything. She tried to distract herself by tugging on the water heater pipe, feeling it loosen more every minute. She'd spent so long focusing on that that when she next looked at Owen when she heard him cry out –

His face was covered with blood. He sagged as he was set upright again, on his knees. He was swaying, the blood dripping from his lips to the floor. Nikita leaned forward, his name on the tip of her tongue when Amanda struck and knocked him over.

"Owen!" Nikita yelled, when he rolled over onto his back and then didn't move. "Owen? Owen, can you hear me?" She was frantic, pulling on the water heater pipe as she leaned forward, trying to get as close to Owen as she could. He finally looked at her, his eyes slowly opening and then traveling up her body and meeting her eyes. "Owen," she said, her eyes watering and her voice sounding weak, fragile. Nikita lowered her head and buried her face into his shoulder, fighting back a plethora of emotions bubbling to the surface.

Reluctantly, she slowly pulled withdrew her face from her arm and looked at Owen and then that was when she saw it. His wink. His eyes darted to the pipe she was cuffed to and then he looked at Jaeger, who was coming over to pick him up again. As soon as Jaeger placed his hand on Owen and yanked him up, Owen brought his hands up and thrust his elbows into Jaeger's side. Jaeger grunted and took a step back, then Owen stood up and kicked Jaeger in the stomach, sending him flying back onto the floor. Nikita got to work, pulling as hard as she could on the pipe. She placed one foot on the wall above the pipe and her other foot right on it, pushing with all her might. She gritted her teeth, straining herself, her wrists hurting from the pressure of the cuffs against her skin. Just as she felt like her shoulder strain with all the force she was using the pipe broke and she was free.

Panting, Nikita pushed herself up off the floor and faced Amanda. She'd wasted no time in reacting, on Nikita before she had even raised her hands to throw a punch. Amanda lifted the truncheon and struck her face first, and then when Nikita doubled over she struck her back, kicked her knees out from under her.

Nikita gasped, crawling away from Amanda, but Amanda stepped in front of her and blocked her way. "You never learn," she said, sighing heavily. Lifting her leg, Amanda kicked Nikita onto her back and then placed her heel on her chest, pinning her down.

"Neither do you," Owen said. Amanda whipped her head around and spotted Jaeger on the floor, his eyes wide and his mouth open in surprise. He was dead. Before Amanda had time to react, Owen came up behind her and stuck a knife in her side. She gasped in pain, her mouth parting in surprise just like Jaeger's and her eyes watering and widening at the same time.

Nikita shoved Amanda's foot off of her chest and then pushed herself up to standing, watching as Owen twisted the knife deeper into Amanda's side and then let her go, letting her fall to the floor. Owen stared at her for several moments, feeling a flood of relief wash over him. He'd finally rid them of Amanda and it felt good. And it was only just the beginning, in a way.

Owen collapsed on the floor, spitting out blood from his mouth. He let out a sound of pain as he rolled over onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as he lifted his shirt to check his torso, seeing the bruises slowly forming and getting darker. It hurt to breathe, and he thought that Amanda might have fractured a rib in the process of beating him.

Nikita started to go over to Owen, but Amanda stopped her, grabbing her by the ankle. Her first impulse was to kick her away, ignore her, but when she looked down at Amanda Nikita couldn't do that. She knelt down beside Amanda, the fear and anger and confusion in her eyes drawing her in. She wasn't sure what to say; all this time Nikita had spent hating her and trying to win, but she'd never actually thought about when the moment finally came, how she'd feel or what she'd do. She didn't feel accomplished or pleased, not entirely. She felt relieved and sad at the same time. Despite the shit Amanda had pulled, once upon a time they both had cared for one another. Owen had been right, hatred for someone never fully erased the love you held for them. It just got suppressed until the right moment came along for it to resurface.

Amanda slowly lowered her gaze to Nikita's abdomen, lifting a shaky hand and placing it tentatively on her stomach. Her lips quivered, wanting to say so many things but nothing came out. All she could think about were the times she had thought of Nikita as a daughter. And now Nikita would soon be a mother herself. She looked down at Amanda's hand on her abdomen, for once not repulsed by Amanda's touch.

"Amanda, I- "Nikita broke off, looking down at Amanda and feeling her chest deflate. She placed two fingers against her neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Staring into her lifeless eyes, Nikita placed her hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She dropped her hand, slowly standing up since she was still sore.

"Owen!" Nikita yelled, frantically rushing over to him. She ignored what pain she was in and knelt down behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder and encouraging him to fall back against her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him, lifting his shirt to check him. She pressed her hand against a badly bruised part of his torso and he hissed in pain. "We need to get out of here," she said, pulling his shirt back down as she held him closer against her. She got an idea, but it was an idea he wasn't going to like. She didn't really like it, either, but it seemed their only option at the moment. "Owen, we can't let people know what happened here. We can't let anyone find Amanda or Jaeger. Or even Morgan."

Owen slowly froze as Nikita spoke, forgetting he was hurting as it sunk in. He definitely did not like it, but she was right. She was always right. "Do it," he finally said, closing his eyes after saying it. He sighed heavily and then gestured for her to help him up. "Let me take care of Morgan," he said, placing his hand on Nikita's shoulder as he balanced himself.

Nikita nodded, making sure he was steady before she went into the garage and grabbed a can of gasoline. When she came back inside, Owen had picked Morgan up and had her in his arms. He took the gasoline can from Nikita and carried it in one hand as he carried Morgan upstairs, not wanting her to be downstairs with Amanda and Jaeger. She deserved better than that. Once he had her settled in bed, he screwed off the top of the gasoline can and poured gasoline over Morgan and her bed, then left a trail of it on her floor, leading out into the hallway, and then even sprinkled some gasoline in the other rooms. He knew she smoked, that she kept cigarettes and matches in the drawer of her bedside table. He grabbed the lighter, gazing at Morgan's lifeless form for several moments before finally leaving. He grabbed the gasoline and went downstairs, handing it over to Nikita.

"Got matches," he said, holding up the pack. As soon as she had the downstairs covered, he'd ignite the upper part of the house. He went back upstairs to where they'd been staying, grabbed a bag and packed as much as he could into it and then went back downstairs, leaning against the railing of the staircase as he watched Nikita douse the furniture with gasoline and then the bodies.

Here she paused, gazing down at Amanda before dousing her with gasoline. She looked up and nodded at Owen, throwing the gasoline can to the side since it was empty and grabbed their bag from him before he headed upstairs. Owen pulled out a match from the packet and then scraped it along the back, lighting it. He tossed it on the floor and the flames spread within seconds. He turned and headed downstairs, handing the packet over to Nikita, who'd taken the opportunity to pack them some food and water.

Nodding, she started in the kitchen. Owen went to stand by the door, holding the bag of clothes and the other bag of food and water. Nikita lit the match and then tossed it on the floor, the flames spreading almost as fast as those upstairs. She went to stand by Owen, watching as the flames slithered along the floor, covered the furniture, the drapes, the bookcases, and then finally Amanda and Jaeger.

"Come on," Owen said, grunting as he turned around and opened the door. Nikita put her arm around him, taking the bags from him and helping him outside and down the stairs. They hurried to the car, putting everything in the back and then Owen got into the passenger's side seat as Nikita got in the drivers. She pulled out of the driveway, getting away before any of the neighbors noticed the house on fire.

"Stop the car," Owen said after a few minutes. She stopped the car like he asked and pulled over onto the side of the road. Owen got out and went to stand by the trunk of the car, watching as Morgan's house and Morgan herself burnt to the ground. Nikita got out and joined him, quiet.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking up at him with her arms crossed over her chest. Owen nodded, his jaw set.

"I just – I never wanted Morgan to die. Not like that. Not by Amanda's hand. She always told me she'd die by her own rules and that she'd never let anybody control her. But she did, in the end."

"She deserved better," Nikita said, meaning it even if Morgan had betrayed them. "I'm sorry for your loss," she added, reaching over to place her hand on his arm. She gripped it, almost to make sure he was real. As she had watched Amanda beat him, she'd been afraid of losing him. Of Amanda going too far and killing. She couldn't bear the thought, not ever.

"You would've been a bigger loss," he said, finally turning to look at her. He lifted his hand and grabbed the side of her face, stepping closer and crushing his lips against hers. Nikita could taste the dried blood as they kissed, not minding it. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, grasping onto him as she kissed him urgently back. When they finally pulled back, they rested their foreheads against each other. Owen slid his hand down her arm and then wrapped his arm around her. In the distance, the flames from the house got bigger and brighter, the house dissolving more quickly every second. They both could smell the smoke, their clothes smelling like smoke from being inside when the house had first started to burn down.

"There's something I need to tell you, Owen," Nikita said, remembering a previous conversation with Morgan and then the test she'd taken the other day, which had been positive. "And it's – it's big." Nikita sighed and pulled back, looking up at him. He furrowed his eyebrows at her and slid his hand up to cup the side of her face, stroking along her jawline with his thumb. "It's important." She placed her hand over his, removing it from her face and then placing it on her stomach, looking down as she did so. She looked up at him, taking a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." She gazed at him, her eyes stinging as she said the words, the nervousness and fear in her eyes.


	10. Together

Her words shocked him and his hand fell from the side of her face to rest on her shoulder. Owen opened and closed his mouth several times, not really sure what to say in response. A part of Nikita was relieved. Relieved that he wasn't overly happy about the pregnancy and was in shock just like her. She'd never imagined being a mother, hadn't even believed it possible. After all that had happened to her – being shot, stabbed, tortured – she figured all the stress her body had been through might affect her fertility. Maybe not.

"I, um, - I –" Owen broke off, not quite sure what to say. He also didn't want to offend Nikita, upset her. That was the last thing he wanted to do right now, hurt her. "Whoa," he simply said.

"Yeah. Whoa." Nikita agreed, feeling like _whoa_ was a pretty good word to describe what was going on right now.

"I mean, I'm – maybe we should find a motel. Clean up, relax, then we can talk about this," he suggested, almost as a question. When Nikita nodded, he sighed with relief. He needed some time to think all this over, process it, and acknowledge it as not just a fantasy. He also just needed to lie down and take something for the pain he was in. He'd never imagined himself actually being with Nikita in a romantic way, let alone fathering a child with her. Not that that was bad. It was… nice, actually. Terrifying as hell, though.

They got back in the car and drove for an hour, stopping at the relatively nice motel they could find. Across from the street was a store, and after getting Owen settled in the room Nikita went to grab a few needed items. When she came back, she found Owen shirtless on the bed. He clutched his side, taking a sip of water he'd gotten from the vending machine outside.

"So I got some first aid stuff and also picked us up some food. Nothing much, but it'll do for the night," she said. She set the bag of first aid on the bed beside Owen and then went into the bathroom, washing her face and hands and then wet a cloth with warm water, going to stand in front of Owen when she was done. She placed her fingertips underneath his chin, her touch light as a feather as she tipped his head back. She smiled down at him, pressing the cloth against the outer corner of his eye to wipe away some blood. She gently dabbed all over his face, erasing all of the blood that had dried on his skin.

Owen finally broke the silence. "I haven't thought about having kids since Emily died. We were going to run away, you know. Go somewhere we both had always wanted to go, settle down. Leave this life behind and start our own family. After she died, I just couldn't imagine myself like that anymore. Wanting that. I didn't think I'd ever come across another woman to make me feel the way I felt about Emily."

Nikita blinked several times as she caressed his cheek with her thumb, studying him as he looked down at the ground. "I was going to start a family with Daniel," she said. "I was ready for it, that life. Being normal. When he died, I – I felt like I wasn't meant for that life, that I never would be. For the longest time I felt like I didn't deserve to be happy."

Owen looked up at her, frowning slightly. "You deserve to be happy, Nikita," he said. "You more than anyone I know."

Nikita smiled and laughed lightly, looking down. She got down on her knees and between his legs, lightly brushing the other bloody parts of his body with the cloth. She grabbed his hand, gently scrubbing his knuckles before setting the blood-stained cloth on the bedside table. Looking up at him, she said, "I'm not mother material. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. I really do. They're innocent and deserve to be protected and loved. I'm just not sure if I can – this life, the things we've done… do people like us deserve to be parents?"

Owen sighed heavily, gazing at Nikita as he brought his hand up and ran it through her hair. He contemplated her question, agreeing with her but also not agreeing with her. There were some advantages to people like them being parents, but he was scared just like her. Unsure. "Maybe us being parents isn't such a bad thing," he finally said. "Yes, we've done some terrible things, but after all we've done and seen, we've got more experience than anyone. We'd know how to protect them better., we know exactly what's out there. And everyone who's expecting a kid starts off scared as hell. I look calm on the outside, but on the inside I'm – I can't even properly explain it. You may not believe it, but you are mother material. You have it in you." He'd found it hard to gaze at Nikita as he spoke. She looked so frightened, fragile, insecure. He wasn't used to seeing her this way and it broke his heart. When he saw her eyes begin to mist and her bottom lip quiver, he was about to say something else and cup the side of her face when she stood up. "The truth is, though – I would not want to raise a child with anyone but you." Owen added.

Nikita let out a heavy breath and smiled, the backs of her eyes stinging. She gazed down at Owen as he gazed up at her, his head tilted back. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him while he leaned forward and buried his face against her torso. She dipped her head, kissing the top of his before resting her chin on his head. "So we're in this together?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"We're in this together," Owen said, his voice a bit muffled but still clear enough for her to her and understand. Nikita smiled, closing her eyes as she turned her head and rested her cheek against the top of his head, bringing one hand up to cup the back of his head and caress his hair with her fingertips.

Owen slipped his arms around her, holding her close and knowing she could use this – be held and loved and know she wasn't alone in this. Sure, he'd freaked out, but he wasn't the type to run away. Not when it came to her. Gravity had always brought them back together and though he'd run from her once, he didn't plan on leaving her again. He loved how he was when he was with her. He was Sam, yes, but he was more Owen than anything. At least when he was with her. She brought out a goodness in him, a feeling that there was hope for him. Emily had had that effect on him and now so did Nikita.

He cursed himself when he pulled out of their embrace, but he did it for a good reason. "Come here," he said, placing his hand behind him on the bed and pulled himself to rest against the pillows. He held his arm out, gesturing for her to get beside him. She lay down beside him, carefully resting her head on his bare chest and placing her hand above his heart. Owen wrapped his arm around her, wincing slightly as he shifted to get comfortable. Once she was resting against him with his arm around her, Owen felt content and so did Nikita. He tilted his head and looked down at her, lifting his hand and lightly running his fingertips over her hair. He brought his other hand around and placed it over the hand she had on his chest, holding it. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

Nikita ran her tongue across the bottom of her teeth, thinking over his question. It took her several moments to answer, her mind a bit lazy as she got comfortable against Owen, the body heat created by them cuddling warming her and soothing her aching muscles. She could hear his heart pounding lightly beneath her ears and she listened to the steady beating of it. "Well, Amanda's dead. She was the only threat remaining. I say we – we just go wherever we want. We can finally choose what we want to do."

"I say somewhere warm, tropical," he said, grinning as he admired her from this angle. "So I can see you in a bikini every day." Owen smirked, wincing with pain when Nikita playfully smacked him on the chest. "Ouch. I'm injured here, don't forget."

"Oh, sorry," she said, smiling as she pressed a kiss to his chest. "Somewhere tropical sounds nice, though. How about the Cook Islands?" she suggested, rubbing the middle of his chest with her hand in a circular motion.

"Hmm," Owen murmured, "the Cook Islands. Not bad. Off the map, secluded. We'd have all the privacy we'd want," he added, smirking as he ran his hand over her ass and then briefly cupped it. Nikita laughed, playfully nipping at the skin on his chest. "I like it. I'll love anywhere with you. There's just one problem," he added, sighing. He placed his hand on the small of her back, massaging it.

"Oh?"

"The others. Michael, Ryan, Birkhoff, Sean, Alex, and Sonya. I know you, Nikita. You can't just leave them without another word. You're going to want to go see them before we exfiltrate. If you didn't go see them and make amends, it'd haunt you."

Nikita bit down on her bottom lip, wishing she could disagree with him and say she could just take off with him, forget the others and let them all live their own lives. But he was right. She couldn't do that. That wasn't her. She needed to see them all one last time and explain herself, make sure they all parted on good terms. "I'll go see them the week before we decide to leave," she finally answered. "We will go see them," she added, putting emphasis on _We_

"No," Owen replied. "No. Just you.' Nikita furrowed her eyebrows and pushed herself up to look at Owen. He raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged at her reaction. "I was never part of that group. Not really. I was only in Division for you, Nikita. You were my only friend there. None of the others were. I was an outcast just like Sean. He has Alex, though. You all – you all were this big group. The Originals, I liked to call you. You, Michael, Alex and Birkhoff. Sonya fit in because of Birkhoff and Sean eventually managed to fit in because of Alex. I was the odd one out. Besides, I'm sure none of them care about me anymore after what I did. They only care about you. You go see them. Talk to them and make amends. I'll stay here and plan everything so that when you get back, it's all ready and we can leave. I promise, I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together."

As he spoke, she'd tried to speak up and deny what he was saying, but every time she had tried he'd stopped her with a look. In the end, she realized he was right. How blind had she been? Now that she was away from Michael and not having to worry about him anymore, she was noticing all the things she'd overlooked. How out of place Owen had been, how cruel Michael had been towards him, Alex's addiction and struggle. She'd been selfish, focusing all her attention on Michael who'd treated her like dirt after she had saved his life. Made her feel like he'd rather be dead than with her.

"All right," she said, nodding. "I'll go see them, but you better as hell be here when I get back or else –"

Owen cut her off, leaning up to crush his lips against hers and shut her up with a kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he leaned back down and Nikita wrapped her arm around his torso, deepening the kiss and taking more of him in her mouth. She wrapped her tongue around his, kissing him lazily as she caressed his bruised ribcage with her fingertips. Owen ran his hand through her hair several times before he finally rested his hand on her ass, hugging her closer against him. He didn't care that he was aching, in pain. Right now, kissing Nikita and just being with her like this made the pain feel like a dull ache, barely noticeable. She was his relief, taking away any pain he felt and replacing it with happiness.

After a long, long time of kissing, Owen finally pulled away and cupped the back of her head. "I love you, Nikita," he said. The time felt right, it all felt right.

"I love you," she said, smiling at him. She reached up and cupped his face, pulling herself closer to him and crushing her lips against his again. She forgot about what she had to do before they could move on and live their life, wanting to just enjoy this moment before real life called.


	11. Resolve

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _First, this series is close to wrapping up. Really close, actually. One more chapter and I should have everything wrapped up. I've been thinking of starting another Nikita&Owen series (completely AU) where they're living a normal life. Would you guys like to read that? Something else I want to do is add more chapters to _In The Darkness_, the first Owen&Nikita fic I wrote where I started their relationship. I don't know yet how many chapters I'll do for that one, but I basically wanted to write more about their past together pre-S3. So just let me know which fic idea you guys would be most interested in. _

_Second, there's a second version to this chapter that I will be posting under "_Goodbye for a While_," which is my Sean&Alex fanfic. The chapter in the Salex fic will focus more on Sean and Alex's POVs, whereas the story below is mainly from Nikita's POV._

_Third, I have loved EVERY. SINGLE. REVIEW and they all mean so much to me. I really appreciate all the love and support for this series. You guys rock. _

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She'd said all she needed to say to Ryan, Birkhoff and Sonya. It'd been easier than expected, though not entirely. Their final goodbyes had been heart breaking, making Nikita cry more than she had thought she would. Especially when she had went to Ryan. They'd been friends so long, so to say farewell to him hurt. She hadn't been able to bring herself to completely cut off contact with all of them. If she'd done that, Nikita would have felt like she had lost a part of herself. One thing that bothered her was that they all had seemed nervous, as if they were keeping a secret from her.

Nikita decided not to say goodbye to Michael, not sure if she had it in her to see him one last time. She also didn't want him to try and win her back again. Standing outside Alex's apartment, Nikita took a deep breath and knocked on her door. When it opened a few moments later, Nikita let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Alex," she said, after Alex said her name. "We need to talk." Looking down as Alex stared icily at her, Nikita swallowed nervously. "Please," she added, looking up at Alex. "I want to explain everything to you and apologize." _And see you one last time_, she thought to herself.

Sighing heavily and in defeat, Alex stepped aside to let her in. Her expression was neutral as Nikita smiled gratefully and stepped inside, looking around. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, Nikita turned around to face Alex. "Sit," Alex said, waving her hand towards the couch.

As Nikita walked over to sit on the couch, Sean walked out. He'd changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and when he saw Nikita his expression hardened. Nikita felt disheartened, but she had expected this from both of them, most especially Alex. She was lucky she'd even been invited in.

"I was just gonna grab some water," Sean said. "I'll give you two some privacy."

"No," Nikita said, instantly. "Sean, stay. I owe you an apology, too." Sean looked uncertainly between her and Alex but then eventually took a seat in the armchair next to Nikita, while Alex sat down on the couch beside Nikita, rather stiffly. Sean watched Alex, but listened to Nikita. "I know what I did is hard to forgive," she continued, tucking a leg underneath her and shifting to face Alex, hands in her lap. She twisted her fingers, playing with them as she spoke. "I only did it to protect you and the others. I know it's a vice of mine, deciding what's best for you all, keeping things from you and not consulting with you. It's how I am and I won't apologize for that. But I will apologize for abandoning you, Alex. Everyone you've ever loved has left you. Not intentionally. I did, though. For that I'm sorry for."

"And I'm also so sorry for not being a friend to you when you needed one. I was a bitch," she added, and elicited a slight laugh from Alex, a tinge of bitterness in it. "I didn't listen to you. I was blind to your struggles. You changed and I didn't even notice. I should have been there for you. I should have been a good friend, I should have seen. You deserved better, Alex."

Nikita gazed at Alex for several moments, the silence between them becoming unbearable for her. She willed Alex to look at her, but she kept her gaze straight ahead and avoided looking at her. She didn't want to break in front of Nikita. Turning to Sean, Nikita took a deep breath and then sighed. "And I'm sorry for not making you feel more welcome among us – made you feel like a part of the family you really were," Nikita said to him. "It's come to my attention that I neglected you as well. I'm sorry, Sean. And – and I'm sorry about your mother." At the mention of his mother, Sean looked down and took a deep breath. "She died because of me. A lot of people have died because of me. I never wanted that. I never wanted any of them, even your mother, to die for me. I'm so, so sorry. You deserved better, too."

Sean struggled for words, never having expected Nikita to apologize for any of this, especially his mother. A lot of thoughts ran through his head, several replies he could've made. Most of the replies, admittedly, sounded rude in his head. He didn't want to be rude to Nikita when she was doing the first decent thing in months since he'd seen her. "Thank you," Sean finally said. "It means a lot, Niki."

Smiling at Sean, Nikita turned to look at Alex. She had focused her gaze on Nikita as she spoke to Sean, and when Nikita looked at her Alex didn't look away this time. "You've been the biggest influence in my life," said Alex. "Everything I've ever done for you I did without hesitation, without question. It's not easy for me to forgive you. You have no idea how much it hurt when you walked out on me, on us. I wish I could hate you, say that I don't and never will forgive you; but after everything we've been through -... I'll always forgive you Nikita, stupidly or not. You're like a sister to me." Alex pressed her lips together and looked down, wrapping one arm around herself and lifting her other hand to wipe the tears spilling down her cheeks. She sniffed and cleared her throat, getting control of herself.

Taking a deep breath and fighting back her own urge to cry, Nikita reached out and put her hand over Alex's. She gripped it hard yet affectionately, and then a moment later both women leaned in and embraced each other. Nikita closed her eyes, placing her hand on top of Alex's hair and grabbing a fistful of it. She turned her head slightly to the side, leaning her head against Alex's own. "We're family, and we always will be," she whispered, and Alex hugged her tighter. Nikita felt her heart constrict with pain, the thought of leaving Alex behind too painful – even more painful than leaving the others. She'd known Alex the longest. They'd been through so much together and had gone through so many struggles. She tried to remind herself this was for the best. Division is dead, Amanda is dead. They're in the clear and they all deserve a happy ending.

Alex reluctantly pulled away from hugging Nikita and looked at her with remorse. "Nikita, there's something you need to know. About Michael." Alex hesitated, glancing at Sean before back at Nikita, whose head was tilted slightly to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. Nikita swallowed, nervous again. What was it about Michael that had everyone so stricken? "He's dead, Nikita. Michael's dead."

"Wha – how?" She shook her head, not quite believing it. She was oblivious to her surroundings at the moment and fortunately Alex hadn't replied yet. Using the time given her, Nikita tried to process those first words. Dead. He was dead. So many times in the past they'd come close, both of them, to dying. They'd always made it out alive, albeit a few cuts and bruises. Had their luck finally run out?

"It was about a week after he came back from seeing you," Alex finally explained, speaking slowly. She held onto Nikita's hand, a gesture Nikita noticed, and she gripped Alex's hand. "He took on more than he could handle," she continued. She wasn't sure if she should add that it had seemed like a suicide misson; that ever since returning from finding Nikita Michael had gone to a dark place and shut himself off from everyone else. Deciding not to tell her all that, Alex wanted Nikita to remember Michael in a good way. "I'm so sorry, Nikita."

Nikita felt the urge to cry, the need – but no tears shed. She was dry-eyed. She felt an ache in her heart, a dull throbbing almost like a bruise and someone was pressing their fingertips against it. "I just wish our last conversation had been more... amiable." Nikita shook her head, running her hand through her hair and standing up. "I should go," she added, zipping up her leather jacket.

"What? No," Alex said, almost shouted. She quickly stood up and hurried over to Nikita. "You just got here," she continued, taking Nikita's hands in hers. "Please stay," she pleaded.

Nikita looked from Alex to Sean and back, shaking her head. "It's time, Alex. You know it is. It's time for us to go our separate ways and live. You're going to be just fine, Alex," she continued, hugging Alex again. She turned her head, placing her lips close to Alex's ear. "You have a good man who loves you. Don't forget that."

Pulling away, Nikita took Alex's face between her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She let her lips linger against Alex's warm skin for several moments and then slowly ran her hands down Alex's arms. Cupping her cheek, Nikita smiled and then walked past Alex. She nodded to Sean as she walked to the door. "Take care of her or else I'll come back and kick your ass," she said to Sean, grinning. Nikita cast one last look at Alex, smiling bittersweetly at her for a few moments. "I love you, Alex," she said. "We'll see each other again in the future," she added, and then left. She didn't tell them about being with Owen, though they probably already knew. Michael most likely told them. She didn't tell Alex about the baby, unable to bring herself to do so. In her eyes, Alex would always be Aunt Alex to the boy or girl.

In the hallway, Nikita finally broke down. The tears streamed down her face and she lifted her hand, pressing the back of it against her mouth to hold back the wail wanting to escape. She walked out of the apartment building in a daze and didn't allow herself to fully break down until she was in the car. She cried until it hurt – hurt to think, hurt to feel, hurt to breathe. She'd just said goodbye to people as good as family. And then there was Michael. The man she'd once loved – no, loved. She still did love him, just not the way she used to. He'd always occupy a special place in her heart. They all would. She'd never forget any of them.


	12. The End

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I hate that this is so short, but since this is the final chapter for this series I guess it doesn't really matter. I am rather sad that this has finally come to an end, but don't fear! I plan on continuing Nikita and Owen in a new series (throwing in Sean and Alex, too). As soon as I wrap up my Salex series I'll start writing the new stuff.

I've really appreciated all the amazing feedback on _Frustrations_. Like, you guys have no idea. I've loved reading every single comment and a lot of you have been a lot of help and I hope you all will read the new Nikita and Owen series when it's up. I love you all! XOXO. And a special shout-out and thank you to **Wootar16 **for reading my ideas for these two and giving me helpful feedback :)

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Several times she had thought about not going back to meet Owen, not after finding out about Michael. It all seemed wrong to her, to be so happy with Owen when Michael – her ex fiance – was dead because he hadn't been able to handle losing her. The belief that she didn't deserve to be happy had occurred to her many, many times over the years, and it was that thought combined with her past with Division why she'd distanced herself and hadn't allowed herself to fall in love since Daniel. All the sins she'd committed, how could she ever deserve happiness after causing others such distress?

When she met Owen she had felt hope for herself. He'd fallen in love with someone and then lost her due to Nikita's involvement. He was the first one in her crusade against Division she had a genuine connection with, someone she'd come to care for despite her outward indifference. She had needed someone to bond with, someone who'd done terrible things and Owen had been that person. Owen had opened her up, taken down her walls and made her realize she deserved to be happy and that there was someone that could make her happy. She couldn't remember ever being happier than when she'd been with him. She knew that no matter what, Owen would follow her into the dark, accept her dark side; and she'd follow him to the deepest depths, as well.

Could she really just turn around, abandon Owen and live on her own? Could she leave him and deprive herself of love and affection? No. That word echoed in her head. She even felt it in her bones. She didn't want to abandon Owen, not after everything they'd been through. She wanted him, wanted to be with him, wanted to raise a child with him. Being alone and struggling alone was not what she wanted, so she decided to meet where she and Owen had agreed on. Soon enough, she grew eager to see him. To touch him, kiss him, be hugged by him. Being nervous about the possibility of something having happened to him while she was gone was another contributing factor to her eagerness to see him. She chided herself, knowing they didn't need to worry anymore. Amanda was finally, finally dead. Unable to hurt any of them anymore.

It was a little past midnight when Nikita reached the agreed upon meeting spot, pulling into the small parking lot, a deserted fruit stand across from her. She got out of the car, zipping up her jacket as she looked around the empty area. For a second she panicked, swallowing hard as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. When she heard the ground crunch behind her, she turned around and saw him, leaning against the side of the decrepit fruit stand, his hands in his pockets. He looked up and over at her just as she spotted him, and Nikita smiled.

"Owen," she said, relief washing over her as she finally saw him. She even looked him over, making sure he was unharmed and well. Nikita hurried over to him and Owen took a few steps towards her, meeting her halfway. She threw her arms around him and buried her face into the side of his neck. As soon as they touched she felt better, greedily inhaling the manly scent of him. She'd once read, or maybe heard, that human contact - touch - was a necessity. Human touch has a wide range of physical and emotional benefits. It had all been health related, but when you thought of touch from a romantic and human viewpoint, touch made you feel better. Depriving yourself of affection, you become fragile and withdraw from society. A simple touch can do wonders and it was doing wonders right now for Nikita.

He gripped her tightly, placing one hand on the back of her head. "Everything okay?" he asked, sensing something off about her. He rubbed the small of her back, turning his head to kiss the side of her own.

Should she tell him? Just because he'd never gotten along well with Michael didn't mean he didn't deserve to know, but she also didn't want him to feel like Michael's death was an obstacle for them. "Michael's dead," she finally said, slowly pulling away so she could look at him. She waited for his reaction, not surprised by the indifference. She didn't expect him to break down like he did. She hadn't broken down over Amanda despite their history, why should Owen break down over Michael? She would be indifferent to the death of someone who had harassed her and made her feel worthless, too.

"Oh." Owen wasn't quite sure how to feel, exactly. Well, that wasn't completely true. He wasn't heart-broken over Michael being dead. How could you be heart-broken over someone who'd harassed you endlessly and had made you feel so unwelcome? They hadn't been close, certainly hadn't been the best of friends. Michael had always seemed closer to Sean, so Owen was sure Sean was more affected by Michael's death. Owen's concern was for Nikita, knowing how much she had loved Michael. "I'm sorry." Any sympathy he felt was for her, losing someone she had once loved so much. He had once been there.

He wasn't stupid. He knew there'd be days when Michael would be brought up. He still thought of Emily, hell, a part of him still loved her. Whether they liked it or not, their previous loved ones would always remain with them. Forgetting them was impossible, they'd both impacted their lives. You never forget them, the ones you loved once. Over time, he wondered if he'd hate Michael less. It seemed unlikely, but more unlikely things had become possible.

Nodding, Nikita looked down and stuck her hands in her jacket pocket, clearing her throat. The awkwardness lasted a few moments, news of Michael's death sinking in. He deserved a moment of silence. "So," Nikita began, attempting to move on with things. "Did you decide on a place while I was gone?" she asked.

Smiling, Owen gestured for her to follow him over to the car. He leaned against the hood, Nikita standing in front of him. "I researched a lot of places," he began, studying her. "I remember you telling me that you and Daniel had planned to ex-filtrate to South America. I ruled that out, not sure if you'd want that." There was a hint of a question as he spoke, and Nikita looked down and shook her head. She still liked the idea of South America, but it didn't seem right. "Um, I also considered somewhere tropical," he continued, and a little smirk appeared as he added, "I quite liked the idea of seeing you in a bikini," and Nikita grinned at him and extended her foot and playfully kicked his leg. "Then I came up with the Channel Islands." At this, Nikita looked up in curiosity, wondering where he had in mind. "Guernsey. It's a historical goldmine, rich with history. Lots of trails that you could go running on. Mild weather. It seemed like a good pick for you," he continued, closing the distance between them.

Owen reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her shoulder. She lifted her hand and placed it over his, smiling at him. Guernsey had never crossed her mind, funnily enough. When she thought of where she wanted to live, spend the rest of her life – warmth was the first thing that popped into her head. Somewhere warm, somewhere welcoming. She didn't want to live somewhere cold, where it either rained or snowed constantly. She'd gotten enough cold weather in her lifetime. And she'd need somewhere where she could run, do outdoor activities. She was about to say something when Owen interrupted her, having waited in patient silence as Nikita ruminated over his idea of Guernsey.

"Before we settle down, I had an idea. Pretty soon we're not gonna be able to travel," he added, his eyes dropping down to her stomach and then back up to meet hers. "What would you think of traveling for a bit? Backpacking and seeing a little of the world? And then, when the time's right we head to Guernsey and find ourselves a home."

Nikita slowly smiled, the warmth reaching her eyes. "Sounds good," she said, meaning it. She needed to get that out of her system, being constantly on the move. Once they'd finish traveling, she knew she'd be ready to settle down and start a family. "Thank you."

Cupping the side of her face, he leaned down to kiss her forehead and then wrapped his arm around her and held her close to him. "You're welcome," he said, smiling. They'd been a lot of places together, but that had all been Division-related. Neither of them had ever gotten to enjoy a country for fun. Now they could. "I'll drive," he added after several minutes of silence and just holding Nikita. He held his hand out for the keys and after a moment's hesitation Nikita handed them over.

Getting in the passenger's side seat, Nikita got comfortable as Owen adjusted the driver's seat and started the truck. She was going to ask him how they were going to get to wherever their first destination was, but she knew he had a plan. Plus, she was exhausted – from driving, from crying, and from analyzing her thoughts and emotions. As they got on the road, he explained to her his plans, letting her know of a friend he had that could fly them wherever they wanted and that he'd emptied Morgan's bank account. He admitted feeling guilty about that (and so did Nikita) but they both agreed that they needed it more than she did and the fact that Morgan had no family left reassured them even more.

Nikita stared out her window, her elbow propped on it and her head resting in her hand. She had her other arm extended, her hand in Owen's. He gave it a squeeze now and then and she squeezed his hand back, a smile on her face, absentmindedly caressing the hollow point between his index finger and thumb.

She drifted back to another time when she was in a car with her loved one, driving somewhere new as they held hands. It seemed so long ago that she and Michael had gone rogue together. Now he was dead and she was with Owen, and pregnant. The way things had changed was overwhelming, but they felt right nonetheless. She was still grasping the concept of being a mother, thinking back to something Alex had said when getting her engagement ring resized. Alex had said it was easy to imagine Nikita as a mother, that she'd make a good one. She did love kids. She'd always tried to keep them safe when on missions, not wanting any harm to come to someone so innocent, and who was more innocent than children? And in a way she had already had parenting experience: Alex. She had saved her, gotten her clean, trained her, looked after her. Alex was her family.

Thinking of Alex caused Nikita to become sad, closing her eyes as their teary goodbye replayed over and over in her head. _I love you, too. _Those final words echoed in her head, over and over and over again. _I love you, too_. They'd see each other again. They would. People always managed to find each other, especially family. One day she'd see Alex again, just not sure how soon that day would come.

Mentally exhausted, Nikita turned her gaze away from the window and looked at Owen. She rested the back of her head against the headrest, her cheek pressed against her shoulder as she gazed at Owen with a smile on her face. She looked down at their intertwined hands, bringing them up so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. Owen glanced over at her, copying her and bringing her hands up to his mouth so he could kiss the back of her hand. Nikita grinned, letting out a heavy but happy sigh and closing her eyes.


End file.
